


How Destiny Works (Or How It Doesn't)

by Tru_tru



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Now For Something Completely Different, F/M, Gen, Jossed, Slow Burn, tampering with destiny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:18:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tru_tru/pseuds/Tru_tru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Bo is long gone by the time Kenzi wakes up from being rescued. Kenzi, determined to track down her savior unwittingly stumbles upon a wolf she doesn't know why she trusts, a looming death threat she doesn't understand, and a spell only she can undo. But can she handle a world where she is the hero for a change? And what happens if that world gets taken away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kick the Can (Or Don't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newly revised!

 

In a long forgotten house, sitting on a couch that was as much dust as it was cushion there was a girl who was, very quietly, losing her shit.

Kenzi Malikov (who was really more of a woman than a girl when it came down to it) hadn't had what most would call a "normal" life, even before she ran away for the first time. She had been an idiot back then and the cops had picked her up and dropped her right back off only a few hours later. What those cops didn't know was that Kenzi had been raised by drunks, gamblers, and con-men; if there was one thing she knew how to do better than anything, it was learn fast.

Still, that particular skill wasn't really helping her wrap her brain around the video that was playing for the twentieth time on her phone. She was trying desperately to think of some logical explanation, it was just a little hard when there was a voice in her head screaming _HOLY SHIT SHE'S EATING THAT GUY'S FACE!!!_

Last night was such a blur- she remembered the hotel bar and the creep in the elevator, but after that it was more like a dream than anything. It was only when she had discovered the video on her phone that she realized her freakazoid savior had not been a product of her imagination. 

Unfortunately, the video cut out after about 20 seconds, so she had no idea if the creep was even still alive. Which, hey, was that really a bad thing? I mean the guy had been about to rape her. If he was dead, he couldn't hurt anyone else. She pushed the thought aside- now was not the time to get philosophical. She was alive, that was what mattered.

Wait- she was alive. Why was she alive? She had witnessed what was very likely a murder. From what she knew about murderers, they weren't to fond of leaving eye witnesses alive and kicking. If that chick had wanted her dead, she would be. Instead she in an abandoned house, phone, and stolen wallets still on her, not even tied up. 

Which meant...

"Holy crap. She saved me." That thought was a little harder to swallow than the psycho killer scenario- who killed a guy to save someone they didn't even know? That just wasn't normal. Then again, she was talking about a woman who  _literally_ had the kiss of death. Maybe normal didn't apply to her. 

Feeling substantially safer, she took a moment to examine her surroundings The place had a serious crack-shack feel- all that was missing was a well with a basket of lotion. She stood up and walked as silently as she could across the hardwood floors.

"Hello? Uh…Miss...rescuer...person?" Silence. A quick walk through the house confirmed that she was alone. 

There was a piece of paper sitting on top of her bag that she hadn't noticed before. It was a note- short and to the point.

 

**_Try not to get roofied next time you go out. There won't always be someone there to save you._ **

**_P.S Sorry I took your wig. Consider it a trade for the ride here._ **

 

Seriously? No name, no explanation, just a save and run?  _Oh hell no._ _  
_

Whoever she was, this chick some crazy ass power and Kenzi wanted to know what it was. Not to mention she had saved her life (well, maybe not _life_ exactly but that didn't make it any less of a big deal). That wasn't the kind of thing she could just let go. She had to find this woman; figure out what she was, thank her, maybe become her crime fighting sidekick- whatever. She'd figure out what to say later. 

She grabbed her bag and headed out.

The car she jacks isn't much- a pile of rust and yellow paint- but it was conveniently placed, and would get her where she needed to go. Plus the vehicle in question wasn't even locked when she found it, so there was a very good chance it had been stolen before.  It barely took a minute to hotwire the thing (grand theft auto wasn't really her style, but it paid to be a jack-of-all-trades in her line of work) and she was off.

The hotel bar she'd been in last night was new ground for her, pick-pocket wise, but she found it easily enough before circling back around to park the car a few blocks away. Maybe if she was lucky the parking lot she remembered being carried out of would be relatively empty.

Lord knows she wasn't the luckiest person in the world- what she had she earned (or stolen) and wasn't one to leave things up to chance. Chance, Fate, Destiny- these weren't elements Kenzi had never put stock in. She made her own luck, forged her own destiny.

What Kenzi didn't know- what she couldn't possibly have known- was that this time her destiny was being forged by someone else entirely. 


	2. Open and Shut (Haha, You Wish)

It was mid-morning when Dyson got the call from Hale about a body found in a hotel elevator.  _So much for getting a day off._

He arrived late- some woman driving an obnoxiously yellow piece of crap had taken the last good parking spot in the alley, so he was stuck walking six blocks to the hotel.

The corpse could wait, he wasn't worried about that, it was getting chewed out by Frank. The man wasn't even his boss but he loved yelling at anyone he could his hands on. He was contemplating ways to avoid Frank's inevitable tirade when a girl turned out of a nearby ally- looks like he found the owner of the yellow rust bucket- and began working very hard to walk pass him.

Her gait was confident (an impressive enough feat in heels that high) but he could smell the anxiety underneath. It was the kind of scent that usually came off in fight or flight mode. 

"Excuse me, miss?" Her head jerked in his direction, eyes curious but defensive. He had never seen eyes that blue. Surely she was wearing contacts.

"Are you alright?" He asked. She narrowed her eyes as he got closer. 

"Yeah, just peachy. Why?"

"You just seem… a bit on edge. Is there anything I can do?" He intended to reach for the card in his pocket, explain that if she was in some kind of trouble that he was in a position to help, but he never got the chance. In an instant, her face changed from wary to downright annoyed.

"Look pal, I don't know what your deal is, and frankly I don't have time to care. Now I've already been roofied once in the past 24 hours, and let's just say the guy really regretted it- in a 'damn-I-wish-I-hadn't-messed-with-this-chick-I-could-have-avoided-getting-my-ass-kicked' kind of way. So why don't you go sell your knight in leather armor bullshit to someone who'd actually buy it." And with a flip of her pitch black hair, she was off again, leaving Dyson more than a little dumbstruck.

It took about half a block for him to catch up to her, only managing to do so because she had stopped in front of the crime scene tape he was headed for. 

The girl was muttering under her breath. "Crap. There goes that plan."

"Plan?" She eyed him suspiciously; her words hadn't exactly been loud enough for the average person to hear."Detective Thornwood!" Frank's voice called out from behind the tape. "You're late. Again." The man shot a disapproving look at the girl. It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. 

"Detective Thornwood!" Frank's voice called out from behind the tape. "You're late. Again." The man shot a disapproving look at the girl. It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. 

"What have we got?"

"The body's in the elevator. Hale will brief you on what we know so far. Why don't you get to work- you'll have to talk to your girlfriend later."

"Actually Frank-"

"Oh, that's okay sweetie!" Dyson turned toward the girl, confused.  _Sweetie? What the hell_?

"Ya know what hon, why don't I just-" She made a vague gesture, "Leave you boys to it and we'll meet at the usual place for lunch." Now Dyson was more than confused. Her voice had taken on a bit of a southern twang and was brimming with forced cheer. 

Before Dyson could decipher her radical character change, she had planted a quick kiss on his cheek and sped off, not even bothering to look back as she said "Toodles!" 

* * *

 

"Fuck, fuck, _fuuuck_." Kenzi dashed at near inhuman speed back to the car, terrified the cop would follow. 

That was  _not_ the way she had wanted that to go. The girlfriend bit had been particularly risky (especially since she had begun their meeting by chewing him a new one) but she had had to think fast. She needed to get out of that parking garage without looking like she was a murder suspect- because yeah,  _murder._ That was officially a thing now. Kenzi had been witness to a murder.

So, girlfriend it was. Even if (well, probably when) the guy- Dyson- denied he knew her it didn't matter. She was now in the other cop's mind as someone who was connected to the hot detective, not the gruesome murder. Who knows, that connection may even be useful later on. And now that she had to work around the po-po to get her answers, she would need every trick she had. 

Collapsing into the driver's seat, she took a deep breath. Her mysterious rescuer had been officially elevated to killer status and if she still wanted answers (which,  _duh_  of course she did) she would need a new plan. And more importantly, she would need a new cover. 

She dialed a number into her phone, only having to wait a couple of rings before a gruff voice answered, "Da?" 

"Vlad, darlink! Eta Kenzi. Remeber that time I saved your brother's ass from three years in the slammer? Yeah, I'm gonna need to cash in on that favor you promised."

 

* * *

 

Dyson could only half focus on what Hale was saying about the case. The feeling of the girl's lips lingered on his cheek, the complexity of her scent rolling around in his brain. She smelt quite remarkable for a human; sharp, but sweet, wrapped in the cold wind of the city. And those  _eyes._

It would have been easy to write her off as crazy- sharp-tongued and brittle one moment, sweet and deceitful the next- but he had been alive for long enough to know purpose when he saw it. So what was she after? What plan had been interrupted? 

His thoughts were jarred by Hale bumping him on the shoulder.

"Yo, Dyson. You with me?" 

"Huh? Oh, yeah sorry. What were you saying?"

"I'm sayin' that even though our vic is human, the kill is distinctly not _._ Nothing I recognize, though." Dyson refocused on the body in front of them. 

"Me neither." 

"Exactly. So you wanna but that super sniffer to work? See if we got anything we can go on?" Dyson nodded, knelt down to get better access to the body and inhaled deeply. The scent of the fae that had killed him was still potent on his body, sickly sweet and definitely unfamiliar. 

"He's been drinking. And something else too, traces of a human..." Dyson stood abruptly. 

"What's up?" 

"The human. The smell is faint- so faint I almost wouldn't have picked it up except..." He looked at his partner. "I just spent the last five minutes talking to her."

He left the hotel bar with Hale about twenty minutes later, a much clearer picture forming in his head. The girl had been there the night before- as a blonde no less- when she had been the unwitting victim of attempted date rape. The bartender who had followed the two out was most likely the fae they were looking for. 

"I don't get it. Why would the human come back?" 

"I don't know. I don't think she knew her attacker was dead when they left. She said the guy who roofied her had 'gotten his ass kicked', but that was it."

"So what's the angle here. Blondie plays innocent, finds some dirtbag to lure out then hands him off to this Bo chick to become a meal?" 

"Could be. But I don't know- I've never heard of humans and fae working together like that before." 

"I'll head back to the station, see if this hasn't happened before somewhere else." 

"Good. I'll check with Trick, see if he's ever heard of anything like this happening. Maybe if we're lucky the fae may have signed in at the Dahl."

"Alright, see you back at the station."

Dyson turned over the information in his head as he walked back to his car. Something about this case just didn't fit. The girl may have been scrappy and defiant, but a willing  murder accomplice? He just couldn't see it. And there had been the look on her face when she saw the crime scene- genuine shock. Was that because she had expected her partner to clean up the mess? Or was it that she really hadn't known her attacker would end up dead?

Dyson knew in his gut there was more to this case. He just had to figure out what. 

 

* * *

 

Trick had been alive for a long time. Longer than most people knew and longer than he was willing to share, and he had learned to trust his instincts. He had spent decades teaching himself to know when trouble was coming, to listen to the wind and the earth and decipher their messages. 

So when he opened the Dahl that day and breathed in the cool morning air, he could tell something was up. It wasn't danger he sensed, but definitely something new. Change was coming, he could smell it. But it wasn't the normal kind of change so common in the human world. It was something...off. Some balance had shifted in the wrong direction. 

When he had forced a peace between the Light and the Dark, there had been a feeling of wrongness in his gut for years. It was the kind of bitter aftertaste that came with altering the course of nature. He had been at the center of it then, the cause of the disruption. It was only natural he felt the worst of the aftershocks. That was not the case now. Someone or something else had altered reality- not the way he had, a forceful blow to the construct of the universe, but with delicate precision.  

What he was feeling was only a ripple. And he could only hope that that ripple wouldn't turn into a hurricane.  

 

 


	3. A Con Artist Walks In (And Walks Right Out Again)

Since Dyson was still waiting on the security tape from the garage, he had some extra time on his hands. He decided to head to the Dahl. He was still betting the kill had been done by an out-of-towner and any new Fae would have had to declare themselves at the waystation. Hopefully, they could get a name and a description from Trick. 

But the minute he walked into the Dahl he had the feeling something else was up. The look on the bartender's face was one he had seen many times before, always when there was some matter of grave importance he was needed for.

 The man didn't even bother with pleasantries. "Downstairs." Dyson followed without question. 

"Something tells me knew I would be coming." 

"Not you...specifically. Just something." Trick didn't elaborate when they reached the basement, so Dyson didn't press it.He trusted that any secrets the Blood King kept were kept for a good reason. The minute a problem became more important than a case, Dyson would know. 

"What brings you here?"

"I wanted to know if any Fae checked in recently. Maybe the last week or so?" Trick shook his head. 

"Why?"

"Found a fae kill early this morning, right in the open. Nothing Hale or I recognize, we were hoping they may have shown up here."

"Sorry. There's been no one new here for a good month. I definitely would have noticed." Dyson frowned. There was still Hale's theory- he didn't think it was very likely, but he had to ask.

"Well there might be something else- what do you know about humans and fae working together?" Trick looked puzzled. 

"Working together? How do you mean?"

"To feed. One human helping one fae find a suitable kill, then once the fae has fed moving on." The older man sat down, thinking. 

"You know as well as I the punishment for a fae revealing their nature to a human. Light or Dark, no clan would allow that."

"So let's say the Elder's didn't know this fae was doing it." 

"It's unlikely, but I suppose it's possible. They're probably on the run from persecution from this fae's clan. And you said you didn't recognize the kill?"

"No. Whatever kind of Fae did this is something we haven't encountered before." Trick paused for a moment, thinking. 

"Tell me about the body."

"He was male, late 30's. No obvious wounds on his body. No cuts, toothmarks, not even a bruise.  Whoever did this was able to suck the life out of him without so much as a struggle. His corpse still had a smile on his face."

"Did you say a smile?" Dyson nodded. "And that's the only lead you have?"

"Well no. We don't have camera footage yet- Hale's working on that- but we're pretty sure it was a female bartended who was working at the hotel bar that night. The dead guy had been at the bar, left with a blonde and the bartender followed. Hale thinks it was a set up, that the blonde was a plant to lure out this guy who'd been slipping things into girls drinks. Some elaborate revenge scheme. I'm not so sure. The human came back to the crime scene Trick- and she did not seem like the type to lead a man to his death. I think she had just been this guys latest conquest or whatever, and this woman Bo rescued her and didn't bother to clean up the mess." 

"Did you say...Bo?"

"Yeah. That was the name the manager gave us. Gave me the impression she was the drifter type. Why? Do you know her?" Trick sighed.

"I do. She's my granddaughter."

"Granddaughter." Dyson repeated dumbly. Trick nodded.

"Why don't you take a seat Dyson. It's rather long story."

* * *

The next morning Kenzi headed over to the police station. The anxiety on the drive over was a lot like when she had broken into her mother's liquor cabinet for the first time- a strange mixture of overconfidence and expecting the worst. 

The wig she was wearing (a tame brunette) wasn't half as uncomfortable as the Monkey Suit she had scrabbled together. Not that she couldn't rock a pantsuit and sensible pumps . Really there was very little Kenzi couldn't rock (see under exceptions her number one enemy: pink). The getup was necessary though- no true Kenzi Con was complete without an elaborate costume. Even the press pass hanging around her neck was fake- not that anyone would be able to tell. Vlad was known as the best for a reason. 

She could have gone in as an average citizen, make up some crime to report, but the press pass was a better investment and it meant she wouldn't have to fill out any paperwork. Not to mention the first rule of a con: keep your story simple and easy to remember. Better to leave wiggle room in case you had to improvise. Which Kenzi almost always did. 

Much like her mother's liquor cabinet, it was not getting in that had her nervous. It was getting what she needed without getting caught. Naysayers might point out certain flaws in her plan- such as not really knowing what she was looking for, and that she had to conduct said search in a building full of cops. 

Kenzi hadn't listened to naysayers when she was a teenager, and she wasn't planning on it now. She had the name of the dead guy (she had taken the scumbag's wallet long before he had drugged her) the detective who was on the case, and a kick ass costume that rendered her unrecognizable. That and a camera phone were all she had going for her, and she had done more with less. 

Once in the building, she flashed one ever-so-professional smile at the first guy she saw. 

"Excuse me, where might I find Detective Dyson?" 

"Just head down that hall and take a left. His desk is right in the middle of the room." 

"Thanks so much!" She followed his directions into the other room, but did not see the tall, scuffy man she was looking for. 

There  _was_ however a very handsome man in a fedora sitting at the desk right in the middle. 

_Mmm...mama like._

The next smile she flashed was a little less professional. 

* * *

Hale's day had been going quite well. Video footage had given him a lead on the Fae bartender and the APB he had set up only a few hours had already payed out. Only problem was the car in question was already across the border. 

"It's out of our hands now man." He had told Dyson over the phone. "You know the Ash's policy: if it ain't in our district, ain't our problem." Hale listened to his partner sigh heavily. "Hey man, don't sweat it. So this one got away- it's not the end of the world."

"I know. Trick won't be happy about it."

"How is the Blood King? He have anything to say about the human/fae dynamic duo?" 

"Does it matter? Whether the human was involved or not, the fae that did it is gone."

"Yeah, Doesn't mean that wouldn't have been one hell of a sight though. Human and Fae working together? Makes the equalist in me proud. "

"Yeah, and I'm sure the dead guy would have loved to know he was bringing species together." Dyson's tone was mocking, but not unkind. Hale just shook his head and chuckled. "Whatever man. I'll meet you at the Dahl later. I've gotta put in some time on the human side of this case. Make it seem like we're still looking for the killer. You got the uh...unofficial stuff taken care of right?"

"My report to the Ash is on my desk." He glanced over, confirming the presence of a dark red folder.

"That's my boy. See you tonight!" He was just about to get back to the aformentioned paper work when a throat cleared above him. 

"Hello there, I'm ever so sorry to bother you but I was wondering where I might find Detective Dyson?"

Hale looked up and his face immediately split into a grin. A case all ready to wrap up and the universe decides to a beautiful little brunette to his figurative doorstep? It was a  _very_ good day. 

He stood up, turning on the charm as easily as taking a breath. 

"I'm so sorry, Miss...?"

"Franklin. Cynthia Franklin. I'm with the Nothern Chronical investigating the death of Joshua Morris? I was told the case was being handled by a Detective Dyson."

"Yes but I'm sorry to say that he isn't here at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?" 

"Well, it would be so helpful if you could tell me where you are in the case? Oh, I know you can't release details to the press but it would be completely off the record. Josh was my step-cousin and we used to be so close. I'm sure it's horrible unprofessional to use my credentials for personal use but..." Her wide blue eyes look up at him, full of emotion. "He was  _family_ and it would mean so much to me if I could learn how he died and Aunt Cassie has just been wrecked, crying all night and-"

"Please, please Cynthia- can I call you Cynthia?" She gave a small nod, head tipping down in embarrassment. Oh, she was adorable. "Look, why don't you sit down." He directed her to Dyson's desk chair, keeping a comforting hand on her shoulder. She ablidged, resting her leather briefcase on the desk in front of her. 

"Now if you just sit tight, I'll go check with my supervisor on what I can tell you. The case is still on-going but since your family it shouldn't be a probem, but well- I'm sure you know how it is with formalities."

She nodded. "Right. Being a journalist and all. Thank you so much Detective."

"Not a problem at all."

His supervisor is surly as usual, not even looking up from his own work as he said, "Get proof she's family and tell her anything you want." 

He intended on doing just that- maybe including his personal phone number if she ever needed anyone to talk to- but by the time he got back to his desk she was gone. 

"Hey, Williams." The short police man he adressed looked up. "You see the woman who was sitting here before?"

"Uh, yeah. She split a couple of minutes ago. I think she got a text or something. Must have been pretty important, she left in a hurry. 

"Damn." She had been damn cute too. Sitting back down at his desk, silently cursing whatever power is responsible for teasing a poor fae like himself with such a pretty girl when he noticed the red file on Dyson's desk...was gone. 

 

 

 


	4. I Fought The Law (And It Was Pretty Funny)

Instinct brought Kenzi back to the crack-shack. It was big, old and best of all completely empty. Runaways and street rats were usually too scared to crash in full-fledged homes- no matter how abandoned they seemed- and Kenzi usually did the same. But her gut told her the old mansion would remain undisturbed. 

She put the file she had taken on the ancient coffee table. The lift had been so easy- a little flirting, some emotional babbling, and bam. She almost felt bad for the detective she had scammed. 

Almost. 

Now Kenzi had watched enough Law and Order with her great uncle to know what a police file looked like (pictures, witness accounts, stuff like that), so when she opened up the red folder in front of her, it took a second to realize she hadn't grabbed the wrong thing. It was only one page, no pictures, no forms. It wasn't even typed. 

 

_To: The office of the Most Distinguished Ash._

_From: Acting Detectives Dyson (Light Fae, Shifter) and Hale (Light Fae, Siren)_

_Re:_ _Official Incident Report of Improperly Disposed Feed_

_Report:_

_A human body was found in the elevator of the Miranda Hotel early Thursday morning. C.O.D: Fae of undetermined species. Fae is most likely female. She did not sign in at the Dahl (the closest waystation to the kill) or at any other waystation in the city. Based on the body she was most likely a chi-feeder. Video footage found shows the presence of a human, interviews indicate the female was recently drugged. It is likely she witnessed the feeding as the Fae in question took her (still alive) from the scene. The Fae's car was tracked out of state. In accordance with standard procedure neither Human nor Fae pursued, but the appropriate authorities in those territories have been informed. Search for the human female is ongoing by both parties. All evidence of Fae involvement have been removed from the case. With the human suspect still at large, the police case file will remain open._

_Official Recommendation:_

_Work to find the human to confirm she knows nothing. If she has any memory of the event, Detective Hale's abilities should be utilized. Disposal is unnecessary._

_Signed,_

_**Dyson Thornwood, Wolf Shifter**_

_**  
** "_What the  _what?"_ Kenzi read the so-called report again. Fae? As in...fairies? For only one page there was a lot of information, but Kenzi was able to break it down into the following. 

1) She had been saved by a  _fairy._ (And not in the way her gay friend Ramone had gotten her out of a completely innocent misunderstanding with a guy she had _not_ known was a drug dealer) But a real life, deadly-as-fuck FAIRY. 

2) Said fairy had skipped town. (So much for her toughest-kid-on-the-playground plan.)  _  
_

And 3) She had stumbled upon an honest to God _conspiracy!_ These detectives were plants in the police department! They had probably been covering up these kills- or _''_ feeds _'_ , gross- for years. And those Fae bastards were gonna let her take the fall for killing a guy! 

Ever since she had gone to that stupid hotel bar and taken that stupid laced drink nothing had been making sense. Maybe she was still drugged! Maybe this was some weird hallucination and she was going to wake up any second in an alley somewhere! 

"Not really sure which option would be better at this point..." She muttered. At least the alley thing was something normal. Something she knew how to handle. This...this was insane. Completely and totally.....

"Crap." Unfortunately, Kenzi knew this kind of insanity. It was a major theme in her bedtime stories as a kid; stories that had been told to her by her totally batshit Aunt Ludmila. 

* * *

"Dyson, you gotta come back to the station. We have a problem." 

"What kind of problem?" Dyson was on his way to the Dahl again. The story he had gotten from Trick had indeed been a long and heartbreaking one, and now that Bo was out of reach of Dyson and the Ash, he had felt compelled to tell the old man face to face that his granddaughter was gone. 

And truth be told, he wanted the Blood King's advice about the human. His report to the Ash had been by the book, and it was fairly likely the leader would take his recommendation but he was still conflicted. The cop in him hated the existence of a loose end, especially one that could be a threat to the Fae's secrecy. But the man could not make himself see the girl as a threat to anyone. As bad as it sounded, he hoped he never saw the girl again- for her own safety. The Ash was a Light Fae leader, but if Hale's siren song couldn't erase her memory he wouldn't hesitate to have her killed. Or enslaved. Either way, there was no good outcome if the Fae got their hands on her. 

Still, there was another part of him that still had that smell imprinted on his memory, still saw her icy blue eyes in his head. His wolf refused to settle down; he wanted the source of that scent back. Dyson didn't allow himself to think too deeply on why. She was just a kid- a human for Gaia's sake. The best thing for her to do now was to just disappear. 

When he found his partner on the end of the call he was genuinely relieved. Hopefully, he had a case- some fresh new problem he could sink his teeth into. One that had nothing to do with that mysterious girl or the Blood King's granddaughter.

"So, ya know that report you wrote for the Ash?"

"Yeah."

"It's...gone."

"Gone? Hale, what do you mean  _gone?_ Did you lose it?"

"Lose isn't...exactly the right word."

"Well, what is the right word?" Dyson was quickly losing his patience with his partner. 

"Stolen. Yeah, I'd say stolen would...cover it pretty well." 

"Hale!"

"Okay, before you freak out--actually, ya know what? Go ahead and freak out. Freak out, and get your furry ass over here because we gotta find this chick and your nose is the best way to do it." God, there was  _so_ much wrong with this picture, but he refrained from yelling at Hale outright. It wouldn't do any good. 

"How do you know it was a woman?"

"I talked to her! Some journalist came in looking for you- said she was a cousin of Morris', wanted some info on how he died. I left for two seconds to get the O.K from Braxton and when I came back she and the file were gone. "

"You're positive she was the one who took it?" 

"No question. She played me like a fiddle man- this girl's acting was seriously top notch. Tears and everything."

"Alright, alright calm down. I'll be there in five and we'll figure this out. You said she was a journalist?"

"Press pass and all- seemed genuine but I looked her up and the only 'Cynthia Franklin' I found was a 60-year-old widow who runs a stationary store three hours from here."

"Well since that file wasn't official police property we can't go about this in the usual way. But it's alright- I have a theory."  _God, I hope I'm wrong._ "I'll know more when I get there."

Once he got there he knew his theory had been right. He hadn't even needed to go all the way to his desk- he could smell her the second he walked in the building. Cool earth and burnt wood covered up with some nauseatingly artificial perfume. Hale was trying to mask his panic, and doing a fairly good job of it. Dyson spoke first in hopes of easing the siren's mind. 

"I know who took the file. It was the same girl I talked to at the crime scene a couple of days ago."

"The human half of our Fae/human duo? So she stole the file to what- hide the evidence? Cover for her partner?"

"I don't think so." Dyson quickly summed up his own theory, as well as a highly abridged version of what he had learned from Trick. "Bo knows what she can do, but not how or why. Now that she's gone-"

"The girl wants to know who saved her life." Hale finished.

"Exactly. She knew my name, she probably thought the file on my desk was the official police report."

"Boy is she in for a surprise."

"Which is why we need to find her, before she does anything with that information."

Like get herself killed.   

* * *

The trailer park was just like Kenzi remembered it- loud, with an overwhelming smell of garbage and dirty laundry. She walked up to the door, all the while her head screaming at her to GET OUT NOW.

She honestly had no idea why she wasn't. She had thought about it on the drive over- was getting answers really worth all this work?  Seeing her family again, risking her neck walking into a police station- for what? The woman who had saved her life was gone, and just like every other time in her life she was on her own. It would have been so easy to just walk away. Pass it off as a lucky break and keep on surviving like she always did. But she didn't. She kept digging and schemeing, going to her _sumasshedshiy_ aunt? Honestly, did she even believe Fae existed?

Yes. She did. It made sense, it fit in her brain- not just because what she had seen that bartender do but something else. Something deep in her  _believed_  this was the real deal. That there was a world right under her nose just waiting to be uncovered. And maybe it was her curiosity, maybe it was the thrill of danger, maybe it was goddamn Fate- it didn't matter. Kenzi had gotten a taste of the supernatural, and she would not be stopped until she was satisfied. 

She rapped on the door. 

"In! In! Enough with the knocking come in already!"

Kenzi stepped in. Her aunt's back was to the door. 

"So, you wish to know your future eh? You wish to gaze into the depths of the--oh Kenzi! Is you! Child where have you been! Two months- nothing I hear from you for two whole months! You could have been dead! _I_ could have been dead!" Her aunt squeezed her tight, fussing with her hair and pinching her cheeks. 

"Alright, easy there Aunt Mila, I'm fine."

"Pft, fine she says. Then why you show up here- out of the blue, no phone call nothing- you need something? Fake passport? Place to hide?"

"No Aunt Mila I-"

"Here, darlink sit down, sit down. Tell me." The pair moved to the round table in the center of the room, and as her aunt pushed aside stray tarot cards, she sat down.

"I need...information." Her aunt looked up, a bit surprised. 

"What, like background check? Oh Kenzi I am talented woman but you know cousin Peter--"

"No, Aunt Mila not...that kind of information. I need-" She took a breath to steel herself, "I need to know what you can tell me about...fairies."

"Fairies? What is this, what are you talking about?"

"Come on Mila- all those stories you told me when I was little? The Firebird, the Grey Wolf, Baba Yaga?" Ludmila rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"They were stories child! Myths and legends passed down by our people!"

"Yes, but what if they weren't just myths?" Her Aunt maintained her dubious expression until Kenzi swallowed, and in a low voice said, "Mila...I've seen one." That caught her attention. The gypsy leaned forward, eyes alight with concern. Her next words came in a worried whisper. 

" _Moy bozhe_ child...have you truly seen a  _Sidhe?"_ Kenzi nodded. 

"She saved my life Mila. And there's more in this city- I know it. I have to find them!" Ludmila started shaking her head furiously again. 

"No child, I cannot allow it! If what you say is true and the legends are real? You would be putting yourself in grave danger!" 

"That's nothing new to me Mila and you know it. Please." She took the old woman's hand and squeezed it gently. "Please _t_ _etya._ It's important."

Ludmila bit her lip, clearly regretting what she was about to say.

"I have heard...rumors. Places where their kind could...go. Be themselves away from humans. So secretive the _Sidhe..._ Anyway- in old times they were called  _ubezhishche._ Shelters like a..."

"Like a way station." Kenzi supplied. 

"Yes! Yes, that is it. If you must go searching for the _Sidhe_ , begin there."

"But how do I find it? Is there like a spell or something?" 

"Ha! A spell to find the Hidden Ones? Kenzi they remain myths for a reason! The mere fact you saw one at all..."

"Got it, got it. Can't be found, except by someone who already knows where it is. God where is Johnny Depp when you need him..." The minute the words left her mouth, she sat bolt upright in her chair, because the most brilliant idea in the world had just entered her brain.

"Thank you so much Aunt Mila!" She kissed her aunt on the cheek and rushed for the door.

"Wait! What are you going to do?"

"You need to know where this place is to find it right?" Mila nodded, impatient for the answer. "Then all I need is someone who  _does_ know where it is. I'll see you later Aunt Mila. I gots me a cop to follow."

 

 

 

 

 

_ **  
** _


	5. Secret Agent Man (And Woman)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments, I'm really glad you are enjoying the story. This is my first fic in a while, and unbeta'd to boot, so encouragement is worth it's weight in gold. 
> 
> Bless you all for sticking with it! I promise Dyson and Kenzi will meet properly soon!
> 
> If you've already been reading this story, make sure to check the end for the revisions! It's important!

Much to Hale's disappointment, Dyson's nose- powerful as it was, could not track people once they had gotten into a car. Luckily for them she was still a person of interest in Morris' killing, so putting out an APB on the beat up yellow car she had been seen driving didn't look suspicious.

"So, wait. You know the car she had- why didn't you do this before?" Dyson gave him a hard look. "She didn't have anything to do with the murder Hale- I know it. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He said it with such conviction that Hale faltered for a moment, trying to get a grasp on the situation. Dyson went back to working on the computer, jaw set. Then it dawned on him:

"You're trying to protect her." He nodded, eyes never leaving the screen. Hale hadn't seen Dyson this focused on a case- but no. It wasn't the case he was focused on. It was her. That sweet little bit of a thing who had just walked right into a police station, charmed the siren dumb and walked right out again in the blink of an eye. If he was being honest, he understood the fascination. But that didn't change the facts. 

 "Dyson I get it. You don't want this girl caught up in something she doesn't understand. But the Ash-"

"What the Ash would do is exactly why I was trying to keep her out of it. I wasn't expecting her to waltz in here and just..." He left the sentence unfinished, the mere fact of what she had done was so unbelievable that words could not capture it. 

"But she did. She's got that file and we have no idea what she intends to do with it."

"And what's the worst she could do? Give it to the press? They'd never believe her and you know it. She has nothing Hale. A report that reads like an elaborate prank, nothing that could actually put the Fae in any danger."

He had a point of course. This was how the Fae had been dealing with humans for centuries, relying on the creatures unwavering need to ignore what they couldn't understand, or didn't want to believe.  Situations like this were not uncommon, but humans- glorious, idiotic humans- would rather chalk it up to madness or lies than deal with the notion there was something out there more powerful than them. But this wasn't about protecting the Fae, not to Dyson. It was about the human. 

"Why is this so important to you man? Last time I checked you don't even know her name." Dyson was silent for a moment, then looked back at his partner before saying the five words that had gotten Hale into trouble more times than he could count, and on one memorable occasion had left him lying on a beach somewhere in Panama wearing nothing but a women's sun hat and mardi gras beads. 

"Hale, do you trust me?" 

"Oh no- don't do this. Don't pull this shit man--"

 _"Do you trust me?_ " The siren gave an exasperated groan.  _Every god damn time._ Hale owed Dyson his life several times over, and vise versa and Panama incident aside, Dyson had had his back as a cop for six years and as a friend for longer. He didn't ask for much in the way of favors, but when he did Hale knew it mattered. Experience had taught him that whatever trouble came as a result of Dyson asking for his help, there was always a good reason.

"Ugh- yes, alright! Yes, I trust you."

"Then trust me when I say this girl is worth protecting." Hale merely shook his head, folding his arm across his chest. 

"Defying the Ash...protecting some human I don't even know...you are gonna owe me big time when this is over."

"Hey come on. What happened to the equalist in you?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. Let's see if that sense of humor lasts when the Elders put you in the dog house." 

"Hopefully we'll find the girl before that happens." 

 

* * *

  

Of all the regrets Kenzi had in her life, dating total genius and top rate hacker Jordan 'J-Bomb' Thompson was at least in the top 5 but it had not come without benefits. He was a total douche and ablatantt liar- I mean who brags that he was one of the founding member of Anonymous?- but it was totally worth it for what he had (begrudgingly) taught her. If they ever met up again she would have to thank him for inadvertantly helping her hack into the police personel files. 

"Dyson Thornwood," She read, "If that even is your real name. 6'3...32 years old...oo! Jackpot! Address and license plate." His place wasn't even that far from here. She looked at her phone and frowned- 11:37pm. She'd have to wait. 

She spent the next three hours online using various stolen credit cards to order a few...necessities. Because yes, a king sized mattress with Egyptian cotten sheets were necessary. If she was going to live in a rotted out mini-mansion than damn she was going to make it as home-y as possible. Not that she was at all complaining about the new digs which, for some reason came equipt with water and electricity. This place was literally a runaways dream! She just had to breath some life back into it. 

Once she got into the Buying Zone- "ooh I'll need carpet. A table or two...and that lamp is really cute. Might as well add that."- time flew by and the next thing she knew her phone was alerting her it was 3am. 

Kenzi really had no clue what kinds of hours cops kept, but she guessed three in the morning was a safe bet that he would be in bed (most 'respectable' people were asleep by then right?). 

She slipped on a black hoodie and began the walk over. "Sorry Pac Man," She said as she passed the stolen yellow car, "This is a stealth mission. Bright sunny vibes just won't do the trick." 

The night wrapped her up like a blanket. She felt comfortable- or as comfortable as one could be on the streets in the wee hours in the morning. This was what Kenzi was best at- the shifty people that roamed the alleys were her people. A few were relatives, others old friends. They greeted her kindly, asked how she was but not where she was going. Kenzi bounced around so much no one really bothered keeping track. Which was fine with her- she knew where to find them, and that was all that mattered. 

The security at this Dyson guy's place was pitiful; open parking lot and no security cameras. It only took a couple of minutes to kind his parking space and quickly rolled underneath the car. 

Two minutes and a few feet of duct tape later, she rolled out again and headed out of the parking lot. She pulled up the website on her phone just to make sure that- yes, the GPS on the burner phone she had taped to the detective's car was active. Damn accurate too. 

It was spy-tech, Kenzi style. She smiled and dissapeared into the night once again.

* * *

 

Trick hadn't been sleeping lately. Ever since Dyson had come in with that case and told him Bo had been in town. 

 _Bo_. She had been here and he didn't even know! And now she was gone and that wasn't right. He  _knew_ it wasn't right- and it wasn't just instinct that had him convinced. 

Summoning the Moirai was not easy and it took a great deal of magic. They were powerful beings, and in ancient times were so often bothered by mortals, looking to know how long they would live or when they would die that nowadays they were nearly impossible to contact. Not to mention his Latin was a little rusty. 

It took him a couple of times to get the conjugation right before he heard a delicate cough from behind him. He turned to see three women sitting on a couch that had not been there a minute before. 

"Clotho. Lachesis. Atropos." He nodded to each of them in turn. "Welcome." 

Clotho, the youngest held a spindle in her small, smooth hands. The middle aged woman beside her was Lachesis. She looked at Trick with unblinking eyes as she measured out various lengths of golden thread from Clotho's spindle. Atropos, as always, had a sour expression on her wrinkled face. The scissors she held glinted in the lamplight, each cut she made to the thread deafening in the quiet room. 

The Maiden, Mother, and Crone were sitting in the basement of Trick's pub. And they did not look happy.

"Blood King. It has been…"

"…many years…"

"…since you dared call upon us." 

Though they thought as one, their voices took the same path as the thread in their hands, youngest to oldest.

"I know." Trick said. "I apologize for my behavior at our last meeting. I was…angry. Grieving."

"Yet you stand before us now..."

"…eyes dry…"

"…but heart still troubled."

"Why?" They asked in unison.

"I have no wish to upset the balance, I have learned my lesson well. But I fear someone else has."  

"It's true…"

"…a change…"

"…has been made." 

"By whom?" Trick asked. 

"Not us…"

"…we measure…"

"…existence."

"Birth…"

"…life…"

"…death."

"To change another's path…"

"…takes greater power…"

"…than we possess."

"And you've no idea who made this change?"

Three heads shook in unison. Trick nodded grimly. 

"Thank you. _Ave atque vale._ " In the next second they were gone and Trick stood alone; tired and even more uneasy. The Fates saw the lives of every being, human and Fae. Many (including him at one point in his life) believed they could rewrite time to bring someone back from the dead. He was still unclear on whether or not they had such power-they had flat-out refused to bring back his wife, saying magic came with a price, and her life had been the price he payed for peace between the Fae- but at least now he knew for certain something had been altered. Not a life, but the path of a life. Bo's life.

It had been 28 years since Bo was born, right down to the day...and just like the prophecy said. It had been foretold that ten years after discovering her power, the Foundling would return to her anscestors and with an act of defiance bring about a new age of peace between the Light and the Dark. Whoever was pulling the strings here had ensured Bo leave town before she learned about her true heritage, which meant she would not fulfill that noble destiny. 

What he didn't know- what he was almost too terrified to ask- was what new destiny had been written for her? 

 

 

 

 


	6. A Human Walks Into A Fae Bar (Stop Me If You've Heard This One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Sorry this took so long guys! The story is about to get more complex so it'll take me longer to write the chapters. 
> 
> 2) If you haven't already read the revisions on Chapters 1-5 I HIGHLY recommend it! You might get confused otherwise. 
> 
> 3) Please leave comments! I want this to be the best story it can possibly be so if you have ideas, predictions, questions, or criticisms let me know!

Dyson's phone rang just as he was getting out of the shower. He had hoped it might relax him after a frustrating day. Lead after lead had ended in nothing. The traffic cams caught the yellow car by the hotel but after that nothing. She must have stayed to on the back roads. Her image was nowhere in the system. If he wasn't so frustrated he'd be impressed.

The more she alluded him the more it became clear that this girl wasn't just 'some human' as Hale said. She was smart. Would she be smart enough to put two and two together about the Fae? He didn't know. But he was quickly discovering that when it came to  _this_ human, he should expect the unexpected. He grabbed his phone. 

"Hello?"

"Dyson. It's me." 

"Trick? What's up?" Did he know? Had Hale told him about the file? Was it already common knowledge that a human had stolen information from under the noses of the Light Fae police? 

 "There's been a...development with Bo. Can you come down?" 

"No problem. I'll be there in few." 

"Thank you." He hung up and started getting dressed. Trick only called when it was something serious, and never shared too much information over the phone; the years had made him understandably paranoid. 

He walked out into the parking lot, breathing in the fresh air. It had rained a few hours ago- he loved it when it rained. No cacophony of smells, all the grit and grime washed away by the fresh smell of clean water. He got to his car and stopped short. Was that...? No, it couldn't be. He had to be imagining it. He had been thinking about the girl so much the past couple of days, his nose was finding her scent where it wasn't. He got into his car, shaking the thought from his head. He needed to focus. Pushing her out of his mind he headed to the Dahl. 

* * *

Kenzi wasn't really a light sleeper, but the ping from her phone woke her immediately. She sat up on the couch (the mattress took two days to ship) and checked- yes. He was moving and  _not_ to the police station. She was off in a flash, grabbing her coat and purse. Yes, there was a chance he wasn't going to the waystation, but she had to find out. She looked at the screen when she got into the car- he was still moving, the little dot that represented the burner phone moving steadily uptown. She followed behind, taking back roads on instinct- she was still technically breaking the law, stolen car and all. About ten minutes later the dot stopped. 

Again, she parked a few blocks away before heading towards the dot on foot. She found the car on the street, cop not included. 

"Okay, come on Kenz. You've made it this far. She just needed one more break..." She looked up and down the street. A few store fronts, nothing special.  

"Okay...Mila called them the Hidden Ones. If I were trying to hide..." She started walking down the street, looking into the alleys until...bingo. About halfway down the third alley she checked there was a small glass lantern jutting from the brick. She found a simple wooden door beneath. No sign, no address marker. If she was gonna put a secret Fairy clubhouse somewhere, it would  _definitely_ be here. 

"I am  _so_ good." With no further preamble, she pushed open the door and stepped in. 

* * *

"You actually spoke to the Moirai?" Dyson couldn't believe what he was hearing. The certainly weren't the type to be summoned on a whim. 

"We've had dealings in the past. The point is the confirmed my suspicions- someone has altered destiny." 

"And you think it has something to do with Bo?" 

"I'm sure of it. I felt something the day she came to town, but I didn't know what it was until you told me she had left the city. It was someone, or something steering Bo off her destined path." Dyson was about to ask just how Trick knew what his granddaughter's 'destined path' was when the entire bar had gone silent. Trick noticed it too, and looked past Dyson, his face transforming into a mask of shock. Dyson turned...and for a moment he forgot how to breathe, all thoughts of Bo forgotten. 

She was  _here._  A human,  _the_ human was in the Dahl. The patrons had been stunned to silence and were now simply staring at her like she was a side show attraction. 

Expect the unexpected, he had said. Well, walking right into the Dahl certainly fell into that category. She held herself with that same brash confidence she had had when they first 'met'. A gazelle walking into a den of lions like she belonged. 

She noticed the upset her presence caused almost immediately but showed no sign of backing down. She addressed the entire bar defiantly.

"What? You people act like you've never seen a goth before." Whispers erupted as soon as the words left her mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Dyson saw a few Fae moving to get up, some with hungry looks in their eyes. 

Dyson didn't hesitate. He turned to Trick and said, "I claim her." Trick looked at him like he had gone insane. 

"You  _know_ her?" He ignored the question. 

"I claim her Trick. I accept her as my responsibility.  _Please."_ Trick gave him one more confused look before he announced to the room, 

"The girl is claimed!" The Fae that had been moving towards her grumbled and returned to their seats. The volume level returned to normal. Quick as lightning the girl's eyes narrowed on the two men at the bar-"I hope you know what you're doing." Trick muttered- and began walking straight toward them, a murderous look on her face. 

"I honestly have no idea." He whispered back. 

" _You._ " She said it like it was an accusation. "Okay, listen  _Detective_. I've done the Nancy Drew thing, I found your secret little fairy club, I think I'm entitled to some answers. Starting with what the hell he meant by 'claimed' and ending with what gives you the right to have  _me_ hang for manslaughter just because one of your 'kind' couldn't clean up the body one of your kind fed off of."

God could she rant. 

"Dyson," Trick asked warily, "You wanna tell me who this is--" 

"It's the human Bo saved."

"The  _human_ has a name. Kenzi." 

"--and how exactly she knows about us?" Dyson sighed, reluctant to look away from the-- Kenzi. She had a name now.  _Kenzi._

"It's a long story Trick."

"Something tells me I won't be bored." He turned to Kenzi. "My name is Fitzpatrick McCorrigan, but please call me Trick. I am the owner of this waystation. Can I get you something to drink?" Kenzi smiled, shooting Dyson a pointed look.

"Now this guy, I like. A pint of your best Trickster. On  _his_ tab."

* * *

"You duct taped a phone to my car?" Kenzi just shrugged a shoulder. "I had to find this place somehow- you aren't exactly in the yellow pages." The last was said to Trick, who smiled.  _Traitor._ It was clear the Blood King liked the girl- it was hard not to. As the story of her investigation came out, more often than not Dyson found himself being seriously impressed by Kenzi's ingenuity. But it was more than that. She was snarky and amusing and didn't hesitate to take Dyson down a few pegs- something beautiful women rarely did. And she was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Now that he had her here it was hard not to stop looking at her. She defied reason and expectation at every turn and for someone so small exuded so much strength. He found it enthralling. 

"We're not exactly trying to draw in new patrons."

"But how do people- your people I mean- how do they find it?" 

"Trade secret."  The old man said with a wink. She laughed.

"Fair enough." Trick motioned to Dyson and moved to the other end of the bar, letting the girl get distracted in her drink. 

"I'm sorry Trick. I honestly had no idea she would find out this much, let alone figure out how to find the Dahl." Trick shook his head in dismissal.

"What's done is done. You couldn't have foreseen this, and from what I am learning about  _her,"_ He tilted his head toward the girl who was now polishing off her fourth pint, "You couldn't have prevented it either. She's extremely persistent."

Dyson chuckled. _Persistent_. "One could say that."  _But one could say quite a few other things..._

"What concerns me now is what role she plays in all of this. Bo leaving town has changed not just her own destiny, but countless others. People she would have met, lives she would have changed..." He sighed. "There's a reason people who have the power to change the past  _don't._ The repercussions of doing one thing, or preventing one thing from being done affects millions in unpredictable ways."

"I don't understand- how do you know it was Bo's destiny was meant to stay in town?" 

"There was a prophecy about Bo, told to me right after she was born. That after 28 years of living among humans, she would return to her ancestors and discover what she really was. The sorceress who told me this made it abundantly clear that I was to be instrumental to Bo's return to the world of the Fae. I thought, maybe this isn't the time, maybe she'll come back but I had to be sure. That's why I summoned the Moirai. But after what they told me I know for sure now. Bo's path _has_ been changed, and that takes an inordinate amount of magic. Now it seems the Universe is trying to balance itself out. Kenzi found this place on her own, that should be impossible for a human. But she didn't give up because something told her this was the place she was supposed to be. I think if thing's had gone the way they were meant to, she would have been here with Bo." 

"The one who rescued me?" The two had been in such deep conversation they hadn't noticed Kenzi had been eavesdropping on them for the past minute. Trick shot Dyson a nervous glance. 

"Oh, come on! I already know about the Fae and the waystation. Plus if you're going to be discussing my destiny, don't you think I should have a say?" 

"She does have a point." Dyson kept his eyes on the floor as he said it, afraid of the look of judgment Trick may be giving him. 

"I understand your concerns Kenzi, but the more you know about our world the more danger you put yourself in."

"Newsflash! I was already in danger before I knew about you guys. If Bo hadn't saved me that night who knows what could have happened. Plus, if some big power is meddling with the Savior of the Fae or whatever then chances are shit is about to hit the fan. I wanna be with you guys when it does." 

Dyson's heart swelled with warmth at her words. He fought the smile forming on his face and looked at Trick for guidance. He just shook his head. 

"She's your responsibility now Dyson. It's up to you." 

"Yeah, about that- you never explained how the claiming this works. Cuz I don't know what that means in Fae-lingo but I read a lot of romance novels and lemme tell you--" Dyson cut her off before she could go any further.

"It's not like that. It just means that you are under my protection now- no other Fae can touch you without my permission."

 _Which I will never give._ He thought, a possessive shiver running through him. 

"Fine. But no benching me. You wanna figure out who's been tinkering with the grand design? I wanna help." Dyson hesitated. He couldn't bare the thought of her getting hurt. "Come on!" She cried, "I make a great sidekick.!  _Please? "_ It was the pleading eyes that did him in. God, was there no end to his weaknesses for this girl?

He sighed and tried to look very annoyed. "Fine."

"Yes!" She fist pounded the air and jumped in delight. "You will not regret this Wolf-man! I promise. Now- what's the next step. We look through some musty books? Consult the elder spirits? What?" 

"Actually, that's not a bad idea." Trick said. Dyson looked confused before he clarified. "Not the spirits part, but the Elders. It's about time we let the Ash know what's going on. Maybe even the Morrigan, much as I loathe to admit it. A change on this level concerns both sides. I'll make the call."

And with that he headed downstairs, leaving Dyson with a slightly buzzed but very excited Kenzi, and the feeling that this girl was about to turn his world upside down.


	7. Ch-ch-ch-ch-Change(lings)

"Why the glass factory?" 

"It's neutral territory. Dark and Light Fae can't go onto each other's turf." Kenzi nodded and sank deeper into the leather seats of Dyson's car. She felt like she had been pretty cool about this whole thing so far- minor outbursts aside- but sitting in a warm car and given time to think....well, let's just say she really didn't want to give herself time to thinking. Thinking lead to realizing just how insane and potentially dangerous this whole thing was. So, no. No thinking. Much better to focus on the now. And the now was a clandestine meeting with Fae elders to discuss this whole stitch in time thing. 

She looked at the man sitting next to her. She didn't know a lot about Dyson- not personal stuff anyway- but she wanted to trust him. She had met a lot of men in her time; some shitty, some shitty but pretending to be nice, and a few (just a few mind you) who were the genuine article. The jury was still out on which category Dyson fell into. Sure he was Light Fae, but she didn't really know what that meant. Maybe the movie stereotypes of black hats and white hats didn't apply here. 

So far his honesty had gotten him farther than any title could. He may not be big on sharing, but when she asked something, he told the truth. That meant a lot- especially considering how easy it would have been to lie. Naturally, because Kenzi was Kenzi, that was a limit she had to test. 

"So...wolf-shifter. What's that about?" Yeah...that had sounded better in her head than it did out loud. 

Dyson, to his eternal credit, didn't even blink. Just gave one of those corner of the mouth half smile things he seemed so fond of. 

"I believe the term humans use is werewolf." 

"And Trickster?" She turned to the barkeep in the backseat. "What about you? Got any fun powers? Things you morph into?"

"It's...not really polite to ask." Clearly, he had tried for reprimanding, but it only came across as cautionary.  _Big softy._

"Got it. Nix the nosy human bit." She turned back to Dyson. "Can you at least give me the low down on this Ash guy? Like- how high up the chain is he? Will I have to curtsy?" Another half grin. 

"The Ash and the Morrigan are like...mayors. They have enormous power in their respective counties, but they have superiors to answer to as well. As far as interacting with them? Don't. " 

"Ouch. Harsh much?"

"I'm serious Kenzi. These people have no respect for humans. If you talk to them like an equal they will not take it well. And as far as your...witty commentary..." He shot her a look that was equal parts playful and stern. "I recommend you keep it to yourself." She mimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key.

The car pulled up to the gray brick warehouse. "Charming." Dyson shot her that look again. 

"What? Their Royal Fae-nesses aren't here yet- I gotta get it out of my system!" He just rolled his eyes and got out of the car. 

"There's an office in the back. It should suit our purposes." Said Trick. They followed him into the building. The smell of rust and rotting wood hit her hard and she wrinkled her nose a bit. 

"Ugh. Talk about a fixer-upper. And I thought my place was bad." 

They walked down a long hallway and reached the office, only to find they were not the first ones there. A tall man with regal bearing sat on the edge of a dusty desk, his white apparel pleasantly emphasized his dark skin. Two large men stood in the far corners of the room, staring forward as the man- the Ash, Kenzi supposed- gazed thoughtfully out the window. She got the feeling this was more for effect than anything else, since for a glass factory the windows were in pretty bad shape. 

He didn't turn when they entered. Didn't even blink.  _Can you say male posturing? He probably spent more time thinking about what pose to strike than the actual meeting._

She said nothing, however. Clearly, there were politics at play here she didn't fully understand, but she definitely got why Dyson had told her not to speak. Drawing attention to herself would only show her hand. And since said metaphorical hand was crap, she would bluff it through til the end. 

"My apologies sir," Dyson said, "We didn't mean to keep you waiting." Somehow between entering the office and saying these words Dyson had managed to maneuver Kenzi to the back, nearly out of view. She was actually pretty thankful for that. 

"Apologies are unnecessary Detective. I have not been waiting long."

"I am glad. And the Morrigan...?"

"Has agreed to come." The Ash finished. "Although I suspect she will be...I believe the term is 'fashionably late'?"

"We will be grateful if she comes at all." Trick remarked. "This matter concerns both of you." 

"Yes...this 'matter' as you call it. You imply it is of grave importance, yet you bring a human to our meeting." There was no malice in his words; it was simply an observation, but Kenzi still felt uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to defend her presence but closed it immediately and focused on the floor. 

"We believe she plays a crucial role in the situation. Dyson has claimed her, she will not be a problem."

"Hmm...curious that a human play a...crutial role in any Fae matter." Kenzi held her breath, waiting for the worst. "But I trust your judgment, as well as Detective Thornwood's capability to handle the child. She may remain." All three relaxed a bit. "Though I am quite curious to know what role you believe she plays."

"All in due time." Trick said. "Once the Morrigan--" As if on cue the door to the office burst open and a women in kick ass boots and red leather dress marched in, saying, 

"Alright I'm here, let's get this over with." She had lackeys too, but they were dressed quite differently from the Ash's, with outfits leaning heavily to the BDSM side of fashion. "Oo! A human! Really, you shouldn't have."

Dyson stepped forward and with an ice cold voice said, "We _didn't_."

The women pulled up short, surprised at his tone but she recovered quickly.

"My my my, possessive are we? What's the matter- mama didn't teach you how to share?"  Kenzi thought she had been uncomfortable before, but seeing the wicked gleam in the Morrigan's eye she went straight from uncomfortable to fucking  _scared._

"The girl is claimed Evony." Said the Ash with a long-suffering air. "Leave her be."

The Morrigan raised her head a little higher, clearly trying to compensate the blow to her pride. 

"Fine. Whatever. Someone just tell me why I dragged my firm and supple ass all the way out here. And it better not be just for the  _fun_ of denying me a meal." 

Over the next few minutes, Trick explained to what was going on. Kenzi tuned out pretty fast- partly because she already knew the story and partly because now that the two Elders were focusing on him, Kenzi felt comfortable enough to examine them more carefully. 

Fashion wise the Morrigan had the Ash beat by a landslide, but she was also a grade A bitch, interrupting Trick's explanation every once and a while with things like, "And just what does this have to do with me?" and "Can't we just kill the human and be done with it?" Dyson had tensed visibly at that, and God was that ever a new feeling, having someone she trusted so completely to protect her. She wasn't used to that feeling by a long shot, but it was definitely one she liked. And one that worried her. 

After a while, it became far more interesting to watch Dyson instead of the Elders- his little ticks, how his eyes would flicker warily to the Morrigan every minute or so, how his nostrils flared whenever she made a jab at Trick. Kenzi would have been content to watch the play by play being acted out on his face for the entire meeting, but she didn't get the chance. 

Because just as the Ash began to question Trick about possible culprits to the destiny swap, the window beside her shattered as something big and green crashed into the room and headed straight toward her. 

* * *

The attach caught Dyson completely off guard. He had been so focused on the conversation in front of him and making sure the Morrigan did _not_ look back at Kenzi that when he heard the window break, the creature coming through it howling savagely, for a brief moment he froze. 

But when it became clear that the thing was targeting Kenzi he sprang into action, slamming his body into it from the side before it got three feet into the room. They rolled across the floor, each struggling to get the upper hand. The creature- cold green skin, red eyes and what looked three sets of razor sharp teeth- kept trying to pull away to get to the girl who had by now moved far away to the other side of the room. This only gave Dyson further motivation to rip the things ugly head off. 

"A little help?!" He cried. The Ash's bodyguards were beside him in a moment, grabbing its arms and pinning it down, giving Dyson enough time to pull a small knife from his boot and slit the thing's throat. Thick black blood oozed from the wound, and after a few more moments of futile struggle it gave up and collapsed.

Panting from exertion, Dyson got up off the floor and nodded gratefully to the guards who had helped him. The knife was ruined- the blood so acidic it was already beginning to eat through the silver blade. 

_Damn. I liked that knife._

He turned, eyes searching for Kenzi. She was pressed up against the far wall, white faced and terrified. 

"What the... _freaking hell..._ was that?" She managed. 

"One of yours?" The Ash asked the Morrigan with a pointed look. " She didn't even bother to look offended. 

"I didn't even know about the human, let alone that she might be  _important._ " She said the word like it was something unsavory. "Why would I want her killed?" The next pointed look came from Trick. She exhaled dramatically. "Well, okay, feed on her maybe- I mean a girl's gotta eat! But assassination? Please. I wouldn't waste the effort."

"Gee thanks," Kenzi muttered. She was still pretty shaken up- the comment didn't have her near the usual amount of bite- but she pressed on. "Seriously, though- what was that thing? And why was it trying to eat me?" 

"An underfae of some kind..." Trick came closer to get a better look at the body. "No...it can't be."

"What?" Dyson asked.

"It's...it's a Changeling." Trick announced. 

"An  _adult_ Changeling?" The Morrigan challenged, incredulous. "There is no way it would attack a building in broad daylight."

"It's unprecedented I agree. But that is a Changeling. I'm sure of it."

"And for those of us who aren't encyclopedias of mystical creatures?"  

"They're...a kind of parasitic Fae- not much smarter than animals really, no known language or culture. The adults steal human babies to eat and replace them with their own young who, in their infant stages can change their appearance to look human then, slowly suck the life force out of the unsuspecting parents. They grow to adulthood quickly, and once the humans they were living with are dead they return to- where ever they came from. Somewhere in a forest usually- they're extremely secretive and...savage creatures." 

"No argument there."

"But they don't attack like this- not in the open, and never other Fae."

"They weren't attacking other Fae." Dyson pointed out. "They were attacking Kenzi." 

They all looked at the girl who, for once, was stunned completely speechless. 

"Well child," Said the Ash, "It seems you do hold some significance after all."

* * *

Across town, in a basement of a bar no one knew the name of, the Changeling's mate gave a pained screech. It pulled in vain at the chain around its neck and began writhing in agony on the cold cement floor. 

The man who had chained it there noticed but did nothing to comfort it. The beast's pain meant that his plan had failed and there was a part of him that took pleasure in another creature sharing his torment. The pleasure was brief, however, engulfed by waves of black fury in the man's heart. 

The human needed to die.


	8. Take a Bite of My Heart Tonight (Just Not Literally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH! It's been so long! Well, don't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> So, good news: I have the entire story planned out. End and all. Less good news, I haven't written it yet. I swear as soon as it's written I will post it, I'm just having some trouble getting all the emotional reactions right. 
> 
>  
> 
> I will try my best to make the long wait worth it. :)

He was too focused on some kind of fancy scrying mirror to notice her entrance. The room stank of death and dark magic. At least they were smells she was familiar with. 

Another minute passed in silence so, in an effort to avoid dying of boredom, she redirected her attention to the mirror he was watching. It showed a woman- dark hair, darker eyes and amply curved in the best places. She was in some kind of club, celebrating with what were very clearly Dark Fae. One of them was toasting her. 

"She's beautiful." She said matter-of-factly. If this was her target it was a damn shame. 

"Yes, she is isn't she?" The man replied, a gentle kindness in his voice. So, not the target then. Lost love? Current love? Was whatever life she was about to take meant to impress this woman? Moot questions really. She'd do her job either way, and wondering hadn't killed her yet. As long as she kept her mouth shut and her opinions to herself. 

"You're probably wondering why I've called you here." No shit Sherlock. I've been waiting here for fucking forever while you moon over your sweetheart. 

"I had, yes." Was what she actually said. He waved his hand and the image faded, replaced with total blackness. His face could be seen clearly in it's inky reflection, but she didn't have any urge to look too closely. He was a handsome man, she knew. It may have been a long time since she had seen him up close, but his was not exactly a face one forgot. There weren't a lot of things that inspired true fear and obedience in her, but his harsh gaze was definitely number one on that list. 

"There's a Light Fae detective- a wolf-shifter - is currently protecting a human girl I need disposed of as quickly as possible." He still had not turned to look at her when a new image came across the mirrors surface. A tall man driving a car. Next to him was a girl with jet black hair. 

"She doesn't look so hard to kill." 

"Don't get too cocky with this one. She may just be a human, but the wolf-shifter is hell bent on keeping her safe. He killed the Changeling I sent after her."

"You sent a Changeling before one of us?" 

"I had not wanted to waste you or your sisters time. I had assumed the thing could handle it. I underestimated her protector." He nodded to the man in the mirror. 

"Oh please don't tell me…He doesn't love her does he?"

"I'm afraid so. And a wolf defending his mate…well. You can understand why I requested you specifically. Once you have killed the girl, bring the wolf to me. I have…other plans for him." She nodded, standing up a little straighter. 

"I'll get the job done, Sir." He turned at last, resting surprisingly kind eyes on her. His smile was a strange mix of reassuring, and completely terrifying. 

"I have every faith in you, Tamsin."

* * *

Dyson spent the drive back to his apartment bouncing from worried to enraged to confused and back again. After the Changeling attack Trick had wanted to take Kenzi back to the Dahl to keep her safe- since the attack had been unsuccessful it was a safe bet to assume more would be coming. But it was late, and while Kenzi relished the idea of spending the night at the bar (she had muttered something about wanting to drink until she couldn't even remember what a Fae _w_ _as)_  Dyson had put his foot down. 

"You're in shock and you need sleep." He had said, "You can stay at my place. At least until we have a more solid plan." She agreed. Trick stayed behind to speak in depth to the Ash and...not the Morrigan because she had hightailed it out of there as soon as it was clear she was not at fault. Dyson was happy to let them handle solving this particular puzzle. His priority was keeping Kenzi safe. The others could figure out the who and why. 

"How ya doin'?" He asked her when they were about halfway to his apartment. She shrugged, the jacket he had given her barely moving it was so big on her. 

"Hey, meeting Fae politicians, getting attacked by an otherworld beastie, going into hiding- I've had worse days." 

"You don't always have to do that you know." She turned to him.

"Do what?" 

"Brush everything off like it's not a big deal." She pursed her lips and hugged the leather jacket tighter around her small frame. 

"I don't know. It's how I cope, I guess. Besides, it's not like you're Mr. Share My Feelings either."  He nodded once, conceding the point. 

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He said in a teasing tone. She looked down and tried to hide her smile, but he caught it nonetheless. 

"It was scary. Like, terrifying in technicolor scary. I thought..." Her voice lowered and became much more serious. "I thought that thing was gonna kill you." She pulled on the jacket again, like a child with a security blanket. 

"I wouldn't have let it." He said. She rolled her eyes. 

"D-man, all Disney puns aside, I don't need to be 'part of your world' to know that's not how it works. Sometimes...sometimes the things trying to hurt you succeed no matter how hard you fight." There was pain in her voice and it hurt him physically. He would do anything to take that pain, and any other, away. 

"Kenzi.  _Kenzi."_ She looked at him, eyes quickly blinking away tears. "I promise you, I will not let that happen." She opened her mouth, witty retort at the ready, but she must have seen the determination in his eyes because a moment later she shut it, letting the words hang in the air. They sat in silence the rest of the way there. 

Seeing her walk into his apartment was a bit surreal. She slipped off the leather jacket and threw it on a nearby chair in one fluid movement. He froze at the doorway for a moment, images flashing across his eyes--

... _her slipping of more than just the jacket...slowly untying her corset, maybe throwing him a teasing glance over her shoulder...making her way to his bed...God he would love to see her in his bed..._

 _\--_ He blinked hard and shook his head. This was not the time to get distracted by thoughts like that. He still wasn't sure if there would ever  _be_ a time he could entertain those thoughts, and that honestly made him sick. He could practically hear the wolf inside him whimpering at the thought of not being able to be with her, not being able to touch her. And really, why couldn't that be a possibility? After all of this was over, why couldn't he ask her out on a proper date?

The age argument was getting weaker and weaker the more he learned about her. They had to be far apart in age- he had lived for hundreds of years, he was used to dating younger women- but she had proved to be mature far beyond her years. Yet she carried herself with such youthful confidence and naive ferocity. She was an enigma masquerading as an open book. 

He could hear her walking through the entire apartment, just long enough to take a quick look at each room. When she was done, she walked back toward him, leaned slightly against the punching bag and asked point-blank,

"So...you got any booze?" 

Next thing he knew they were sitting cross-legged on the floor by his bed, passing a bottle of Jack Daniels back and forth between them. He had refused at first- he may not be on duty, but he wanted to stay aware. But she had plied him with those big blue eyes, that criminally adorable pout and the very rational point that, "Dude, trying to ice me twice in the same day? Whoever's after me is gonna need a bit more time to, gather forces or whatever. Come on! Don't make a girl drink alone!" And then more pouting. He really needed to work on resisting her. 

He was laughing at something, he couldn't even remember what and all he could think was how long it had been since he had laughed- _really_ laughed like this. Or even sat on the floor. Didn't he have tables? What were they doing on the floor? Kenzi was laughing with him.

"But dude...seriously..." She wheezed, "Aren't werewolves supposed to have like...super metabolisms 'r something? Hold their liquor better than us measly humans?"

"Sorry to disappoint. But laass...last time I checked a human your size needed a-*cough*- wooden leg or...two..."

"Ha!" She grabbed the bottle back right as it was about to slip through his limp fingers. "Wooden legs are fer wimps and pirates. I  _earned_ this constitution." She beamed with pride and took another swig. Dyson slumped into the side of the bed and watched her.

"Amazing." She smirked at him. 

"Nah. You just underestimate the power of a Russian liver." He shook his head vigorously, making his vision swim for a moment but he pressed on. 

"No...not the- the drinking Kenz. _You_. You just- you take everything life throws at you and just--" He punched the air in a way he hoped demonstrated his point. It was becoming a little harder to control his body. How much had he had to drink? Not more than she had surely. But as he was flailing and slurring, she was just sitting there, completely fine. He looked harder- there was at least some sign she had been drinking. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were brighter. Were they brighter? They were always so fucking bright. He wanted to fall into them. He got the distinct impression he was about to do just that.

"Woah there tiger." He felt Kenzi's hands grab his shoulders as he went down. "Okay wolf man- time for bed. You are  _completely_ smashed." There was no way she would be able to carry his weight all the way to the bed, so he helped as much as he could, maneuvering his body so all she would have to do was push. 

He collapsed on his bed just as her words sank in.

"Wait..smashed? No no no...can't be sss...smashed. Have to...protect you. From...things." If his voice took on a bit of a whiney quality, she didn't say anything about it.

"Oh, sweet sweet Dyson. You are really in no position to be protecting anything." It wasn't said unkindly. More like a humorous observation. He felt the bed move as she lay down next to him. She sounded as tired as he felt. 

"Have to...protect you." His eyes were definitely closed now. The bed seemed to be spinning underneath him and it added to his unease. 

"Don't worry wolf man. I'm not going anywhere." The last thing he registered was her hand slipping into his and gripping it tight, a solid anchor in his reeling world. 

* * *

 

 As far as waking up with a hangover went, this was definitely in Kenzi's top five experiences. Strong, warm arms encircled her. The bed beneath her was soft and clean and- miracle of all miracles- it was completely dark. The moonlight that illuminated Dyson's apartment was minimal enough to not worsen the pounding in her head. It must have been about 2 or 3 in the morning. Why was she even awake?

The question was forgotten once she realized who was wrapped around her so intimately.

 _Dyson._ She couldn't help but smile. She could feel his breath on her neck, his chest flush with her back. She would go to the grave denying that the werewolf inspired anything even remotely butterfly-like in her stomach and her face was absolutely  _not_ heating up.

Still, as she closed her eyes and breathed in she couldn't help appreciate his woodsy scent. He shifted, tightening his grip unconsciously and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling wider. 

It was strange. The Fae thing she could handle. Being in danger, sure. Par for the course when it came to living in the streets and she knew how to keep her cool when shit hit the fan. But this was totally different. 

This was a man- not some punk flashing empty charm or a street kid acting like a douche because he thought that would get him into her pants- this was an honest to God  _man._ A gentleman who just wanted to keep her safe, who only showed affection when his guard was down, and who genuinely respected her as an equal. He barely knew her, yet he was willing to risk his life for her. 

She'd like to say it was just that she had never had a man like that in her life that made her so attached to him, so reminiscent of the fairy tale ideals she never got the chance to believe in. And while that was true to a point, it was more than that. 

It was that fucking adorable half smile that made her forget to breathe for a second. It was the way he knew not to press for details of her life. It was the way he took all her crazy, off the wall Kenzi-ness in total stride, never judgemental, just amused. And it was the way he made her  _ache_ to be touched, to be totally encompassed by his heat and power. She could just imagine what an animal he'd be in bed and _fuck_ if doing so didn't make her shiver.

There was no denying it; wolf man made her howl. 

Last night had been sheer torture. At first, the alcohol really was just to deal with the shit-storm her day had been, but the more they drank the more she hoped he would finally loosen up enough to make a move. 

He had wanted to too- she could tell. Drunk Dyson was  _not_ subtle. The way he eyed her when he thought she wasn't looking, how he held his breath when she got too close, visibly clenching his fists as if to restrain himself from touching her. 

Figures. The man of her dreams invites her to stay at his apartment, and he's too much of a fucking gentleman to take advantage of her.  And curled up with him now, it was impossible not to imagine what it would be life to be in this position under different circumstances. Possibly with less clothing after her favorite physically rigorous activity... 

She wondered what she could say to him when he woke up. Maybe post-drunken cuddling wasn't the best time to have the 'gee, I know you're a werewolf and my life is in danger and everything but could we maybe go by action movie rules because I would very much like to climb you like a tree' conversation. If she even had the guts to initiate such a conversation. 

She was just contemplating turning over when she heard it- the unmistakable noise of the lock being picked. Backtracking in her head she thought about his door. The lock was old, rusted, probably a '76 model. Deadbolt but no chain. 

Her 8-year-old cousin could pick that shit in under a minute, but she highly doubted it was her cousin on the other side of that door. 

* * *

 

Dyson was in the middle of a wonderful dream, but whatever it was had been forgotten when he was rudely awoken by an elbow in the ribs. He felt Kenzi rip her way out of his arms and the split second of despair was quickly pushed aside in favor of confusion as he heard her hiss, 

"Dyson! Wake up! We got a bogie at twelve o'clock and please tell me you have weapons because I am not standing meekly on the sidelines this time." 

"Huh...? Kenzi?" 

"Dude, focus!" She called from the other room. "We are in the middle of a home invasion and I cannot have you--"

"Kenzi, I'm awake." He interrupted as he rose from the bed, focusing on the door that was trying to be broken through. He opened his mouth to tell her to stay hidden, no matter what, when she emerged brandishing a kitchen knife like a samurai sword. Of course. Trust Kenzi to push her way to the front lines when it would have been so much safer to run for the hills. 

"If we survive this," She said, "Remind me to talk to Trick about getting some big girl weapons." 

The sound of metal sliding against metal stopped and the door was kicked open. A tall blonde woman stepped in like she owned the place, not at all surprised to find Dyson and Kenzi ready for her. She gave them both a quick once over before flashing a cocky grin.

"Aw how cute. Kitten's got claws. This should be fun." 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so completely Jossed on this one guys.


	9. I Need A Hero (Or Maybe I Just Need Myself)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short and took forever, but it's finals week so please have mercy. 
> 
> Thank you so much to all who commented! : ) I am deadly serious when I say it's your guys' enthusiasm for the story that keeps it getting written.

" _You stay away from her_." The wolf growled. He stepped forward. Tamsin tried to take him seriously- he had killed a changeling after all- but it was a bit difficult with the acting all puffed up and mighty, practically  _barking_ at her to stay away from his mate. 

Well, stereotypes gotta start somewhere. 

"Oh, calm down furball. I promise I'll kill her quickly." He reacted predictably, lunging for her throat. She ducked easily, ramming her elbow into his gut and throwing his to the side. 

She pulled a long knife from her belt and turned her attention to the soon-to-be-dead human. The girl gulped, eyeing the blade nervously, but did not back down. 

"I appreciate your courage sweetie, but really, this is way over your head." She only gripped her tiny knife tighter. 

"Yeah, well so was long division, but I still managed to pass fourth grade. It was all a matter of beating up the right nerds."

Tamsin chuckled. 

"You're funny." She started toward her. "But it won't save your life."

"No..." She conceded as her eyes flicked to Tamsin's right. "But he will."

Just then the wolf slammed into her side, knocking her to the ground. She managed to flip the dagger around in her hand and rammed the hilt into the side of his head, not hard enough to break anything, but definitely hard enough to open up a nasty gash- probably a concussion as well. She desperately wanted to just kill the mangy thing and get over it, but orders were orders and for some reason the boss needed him alive. 

The blow sent him reeling and gave her enough leeway to push his body off of hers. Somewhere during the attack he had shifted completely; blood was beginning to seep from the wound on his head into his thick fur. 

"No..." Tamsin stood and looked back at the girl. Her face was the picture of devastation. The wolf gave a low whine and began struggling to get to its feet. Gods he would just  _not_ go down!

"Shit. I really didn't want to have to do this..." Knife now positioned to keep the girl at a distance, she took a deep break and let her true form push its way through the veil of reality.

* * *

 The wolf gave another whine, high and panicked this time, and started scrambling into the nearest corner. Kenzi had never felt fury like this before. The blonde woman was still facing Dyson. He was still in his wolf form, blood running down a sizable gash in his head. His body was gauging with fear. He was hurt, and scared and the sight of it made her physically sick. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All that registered was the feeling of her throat clenching shut, her eyes- trained from birth to hold back tears- swimming, burning. She shut them tight for a moment, and when they opened again she found her gaze locked with Dyson's and seeing the look of sheer terror in his eyes…she snapped. 

"Hey! Bitch!' The woman turned and Kenzi had to choke down a scream. 

Her face…

In the space of a second, the rage that had been pumping through her veins turned ice cold with fear. Even the knife she was using for her own protection seemed to deadly to hold. It clattered to the ground, the sound too small to even echo. 

Some part of her brain recognized that the woman's face had returned to its original form, but it did nothing to lessen the fear coursing through her. She stumbled back, tripped on her own feet and fell unceremoniously to the ground, useless as the knife by her side. 

She would never be able to save Dyson; she couldn't even save herself. Not from this woman, not from that date rapist…not from anything. Her whole life had been spent running from one person or place to the next because she couldn't protect herself. 

And now she had nowhere left to run. 

The dagger gleamed brightly in her assailant's hand.  The sun had begun to rise, bathing her impending death in golden light.  

She was about to die, she was sure of it, and all she could think was: A beautiful killer, a beautiful death, witnessed by the only person who had ever made Kenzi feel beautiful in her entire life. 

She shut her eyes when she saw the women's arm retract, readying herself as best she could for the pain. 

Woosh. Then…

"What the…" Her eyes opened to see the knife, so close it kissed the fabric of her shirt right above her heart. For a split second, she thought maybe the woman had shown some mercy and spared her, but no- one look showed the arms in her muscles straining downwards, fighting to pierce her flesh. With an exasperated huff she tried again, this time aiming for her throat. And again under her ribs. Same result. It was like there was some kind of invisible armor keeping her from being harmed. 

The woman even tested the knife on her own arm to make sure it wasn't the weapon, but it wasn't. She turned back to glare at Kenzi, now sporting a thin cut on her forearm. 

"What the hell are you?" Kenzi shook her head. "Screw this." The dagger disappeared back into the belt it came from, and the woman stood up. 

"We aren't done here, kid. I will figure out how to kill you."

"Hey, don't rush on my account." The woman didn't respond, just slung Dyson's shivering body over her shoulder like a bag of potatoes and walked out. 

Kenzi did not follow her.  She should have- in any other situation she would have too, especially with the possible new super power factor- but she couldn't. 

She would get killed, or trapped or worse, she could get Dyson hurt. The woman hadn't shown any interest in hurting him, but if she followed? Kenzi didn't know what was motivating her to keep Dyson alive, but she wasn't going to mess with it. Not just yet anyway. 

It was time to call in the cavalry. 

This bitch had messed with the wrong human. 

* * *

 

Trick was in his basement office; he had spent the better part of two days combing through every book and source he had concerning alternate realities and time tampering. So far they had all been saying the same thing: time alteration should never be attempted as the only spells to do so require great sacrifice and huge amounts of power. 

He already knew this, but there were a few books that hinted that the few spells that could accomplish such a feat would involve the pooling of power in some form of crystal receptacle, the breaking of which would reverse the spell.

He was just conferring this with the writings of a theoretical alchemist he once knew when he heard the stomp of high heeled boots through the ceiling, announcing Kenzi's rather unexpected arrival. How had she gotten in? The pub wasn't even open yet. 

It must have been important if she was here so early in the morning, but the frantic, devastated creature that came thundering down the stairs was not at all what he had expected. He stood abruptly. 

"Kenzi? What on Earth…?"  

He barely got the words out before she was speaking; her words rushed, mangled from her effort of choking back tears. 

"He's gone Trick. Dyson- he's gone, taken, some…mega-bitch with major Skeletor face came- for me! God, she came for me! She was gonna kill me- tried, don't know how I'm not dead- but, but she couldn't so…so she took Dyson and he was bleeding and…Trick she couldn't kill me! The knife was there, it was right there at my throat ready to slice but it wouldn't go down and I don't know why I'm not dead and…and…and…" 

"Sh-shhh Kenzi, take a deep breath." She did, and it seemed to steady her a bit. 

"Now sit down and tell me the whole story. From the beginning and in full detail." She nodded and sat, starting from when the three had parted at the glass factory and only interrupted a handful of times when Trick needed her to explain a slang word or culture reference (he was fluent in a great many languages, but 'Kenzi' was not one of them). When it came to the part where the woman was attempting to kill Kenzi, he became truly baffled. 

"Wait, so there was nothing you could see that was preventing her from killing you?" She shook her head. "She was all set to go Trick, she wanted me dead and there was no way I could stop her and then all of a sudden I just…didn't need to. It was like the Universe gave me a get out of jail free card. But for death." There was silence for a moment as he let that information sink in. He had never heard of anything like that happening. There was immortality, invincibility, and advanced healing of course but this…

"Earth to Trick! Possible new super powers are not the priority here! We need to find out who took Dyson and how to get him back." 

"Based on your description  I'd say the woman who took him was a Valkyrie. Powerful creatures, almost always Dark Fae. They're the servants of…oh dear." 

"Wait, you know? You know who took him? Well, come on! Spill! We have to find him!" Trick turned away from her hopeful face, grimacing. This was not good. If he was right...

"Kenzi…I'm sorry but I think this is over our heads. If a Valkyrie took Dyson we'll need to speak to the Morrigan, go through the proper channels…" 

"Fuck proper channels, fuck the Morrigan! You're a _Fae_ Trick- so some kind of…locator spell or something and find out where he is!" 

"Even if we did know where he was he'll almost certainly on Dark Fae territory. I won't be able to so much as step foot on the premises!" 

That made her pause. She thought hard for a few moments, seeming to come to a decision but clearly hesitant to say it out loud. She took a deep breath and said,

"Then I'll go by myself."

"Kenzi!"

"Don't even try to talk me out of it Trick. I'm doing this. You can either load me up with some of those deadly looking antiques you hang all over the walls or…well actually the first one sounds really good because that kitchen knife kinda sucked ass protection-wise." 

He was speechless. What she was proposing….it was complete madness. She had no idea what she was dealing with, he couldn't let her go. 

But he saw the look in her eye. That fierce determination that she must have carried with her her entire life. She had faced a Valkyrie for Gaia's sake, and look at her! Standing strong ready to fight the next battle. He had never seen anything like it. 

"Look, Trick…" She softened now, pulling out that pleading look that could probably make him give up his most treasured possessions. "I know I'm not hero material. I'm a sassy sidekick at best- but I have to do this. I have to get him back." 

Trick just smiled and sighed. 

"And that Kenzi, is what makes you braver than any hero I have ever met."


	10. Allfather, Who Art In Basement (Asshole Be Thy Name)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of revealing here, I hope I made everything clear. If anyone is confused, leave your questions in comments and I shall answer them. 
> 
> And CUE THE VILLAIN MONOLOGUE.

Dyson woke in increments of pain. He became aware of his body like an ER doctor performs triage; the worst cases got his attention first. The gash on his head was by far the worst.- it felt as if his very skull was being split in two. With his brain screaming in agony and it took a few minutes of breathing to get it to all dull roar. His back ached- why? No, not his back…it was his arms, his shoulders, his wrists- oh, there it was. He was on his knees but his hands were shackled and secured above his head. He gave them a yank. No good. 

The iron cuffs that bit into his raw skin were ice cold and no doubt enchanted to keep him from shifting. 

 How long had he been hanging there?

And where was…his eyes shot open.

" _Kenzi_." 

"Not here I'm afraid." A smooth voice replied without hesitation. He looked around. He was in a dark room lined with stone. Torches lined the walls every few feet, casting eery shadows around the mostly empty room. Immediately to Dyson's right was a large table. A man stood before it, his back to Dyson. He was looking into a huge gilt mirror. At least, he thought it was a mirror. But it did not reflect the room, rather a live action image of a darker haired woman. Her head was resting on window, and looking closer he could make out that she was fast asleep on what looked like a Greyhound bus. 

He blinked and refocused on the man.

"Where is she?" He asked, meaning Kenzi. He didn't know the woman in the mirror and he didn't really care. He needed to know is Kenzi was safe, where he was and who had kidnapped him- in that order. 

"Tell me!" He barked after a moment's silence. 

"You mean the human I suppose?" Asked the man, utterly unaffected by Dyson's fury. 

"Yes. The human. _Kenzi_." The man turned from the mirror at last and faced him. He was average height, well built. Dark hair and strong, regal features that remained passive when he spoke. What was really striking about him though were his eyes. They were the eyes that belonged to a man who had seen everything, all the wonders of the world- had probably seen the dawn of time itself- and had, after so many years of seeing so much, grown quite tired. So he stopped seeing and remained content with just looking.

He carried himself in a similar manner. A king who had grown bored of power yet did not expect to lose any respect in spite of that. Dyson hated him instantly.

"Fascinating creatures, shifters." The man began, not sounding fascinated in the slightest. "Beasts who delude themselves into thinking that because they can assume the shape of a civilized being that they are civilized themselves. But you and I know better don't we." He paced in front of Dyson, fixed those ancient eyes on him as if to study a painting or work of art that he found maybe a little less dull than the rest of the world, but still not interesting enough to give his full attention to. 

"They, like all animals are slaves to their baser instincts. The need to hunt, to kill…and more redeemable, the need to protect what is theirs." He glanced back at the mirror, a look almost like sadness crossing his face. "Believe it or not I share this passion with your kind. That's how all this started you know. I'm simply a man trying to get back what is his. Trying to get back my little girl." 

"So you're the one behind it then. You're the one who changed things." It wasn't a question, and the man didn't take it as one.

"Changed things?" He chuckled, resumed his pacing. "Well, I supposed that is one way of putting it. Technically speaking I created an alternate timeline. Not an easy thing to do mind you…" He touched a hand to his chest, just below his throat. Dyson caught a glimpse of something- it was nearly impossible to see in this light but it seemed that there was something hanging from his neck on a gold chain. But as quickly as he had registered it's presence the man had turned away again to continue his unbroken pace. 

"Even the smallest changes take more power than you could even fathom. And the farther in the past the event is, the higher the price. To stop her mother from taking her from me in the first place…" He sighed bitterly. "Well, let us just say that there are some prices even I am unable to pay. Thus, the adjustment had to be more recent. Smaller. One little misplaced aluminum can and I could set my Isabeau on a path that would lead her straight toward me, and away from the bad influences like you and that annoying slip of a human you call a mate."

Now by this point, Dyson was quite tired of the man's lecturing. He had no idea what any of this meant- aluminum cans and alternate timelines and the path of a woman he had allegedly had a bad influence on (in a life he had no memory of living no less)- so most of what was being explained went over his head. 

But that didn't. 

 _Mate_. The word echoed in his mind, louder and louder, making his throat clench and his stomach drop. 

Because the man was talking about _Kenzi_. Implying-- no, outright _stating_ that Kenzi was…

But of course she was. He was an idiot for not seeing it sooner. From the moment they had met he had fought tooth and nail to protect her, swooning over her scent like a lovesick puppy. Because she was his mate. 

The man was ignorant of his revelation; he kept speaking, assuming any audience put before his glorious form would listen with rapt attention.

 "In fact you should be thanking me. Had I not altered the course of things the way I did you would have met Isabeau first and fallen in love with her. But you needn't blame yourself- succubi are impossible to resist. And I do speak from experience on that matter." His mouth tugged into a devilish smirk. "It wasn't your fault little Mackenzie failed to get your attention. After all, once you have seen the sun, the light from a candle would no doubt be…insufficient."

Dyson growled. The man's smirk grew. 

"And really it is quite adorable the way you fight for her. It's almost a shame you'll never be together."

"And why's that? You have your precious daughter- why bother killing us?" 

"The ritual I performed was a complex one." He said with thinly veiled pride. "Until it is completed the timeline will be unstable. This reality is not yet permanent, but once my daughter kills you it shall be." Dyson's confusion must have shown on his face because the man sighed wearily, as if having to explain a very simple concept to a particularly dim child. But his next words were not contemptuous. Rather, they dripped with accusation and envy. "You were the first Fae she trusted. You introduced her to our world, and to herself. You protected her, won her heart. You were there for her then- but I am here for her now." 

"And Kenzi? What about her?"

"She is Isabeau's weakness. Her…compassion for humanity. It's understandable of course, that she grew attached to the wretched species that raised her, but that attachment must be eradicated."

"So you send assassins to do your dirty work." 

"Oh make no mistake wolf, I would have taken great pleasure in watching my little girl slaughter you both- but I couldn't take the chance. I know she will not kill a human in cold blood…at least, not yet."

"Except your plan didn't work. Kenzi's alive." 

"A temporary setback I assure you." The man replied icily."I suspect she is already planning a daring rescue for her beloved mutt. And if not, my valkyrie will bring her here by force and then I will figure out what sort of protective enchantment the Blood King no doubt put on her, remove it, and kill her. I admit it has been centuries since I have taken a human life myself, but I trust I can rise to the occasion."

"I'll die before I let you touch her." He said softly.

"My poor, foolish beast." The man said with a light chuckle. "You won't have a choice."  


	11. I Knight Thee Super-Kenz*! (*Some Restrictions Apply)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I promise the next update will be faster. Enjoy!

Once the literal tears of gratitude had been wiped from Kenzi's eyes (which, come on, could you really blame her for?) the two got down to business. Finding Dyson's location was first on the list, and turned out to be…well, as easy as magic could have made it she supposed.

"Scrying isn't used much nowadays- everyone having GPS tracking or what have you, but it get's the job done. Now, I'll need a personal item of his. Preferably something he touched recently." His eyes rested pointedly on the leather jacket she was still wearing.

"Oh! Right." She slipped out of its warm depths and allowed herself a brief second to pout over the loss. She had been wearing the thing ever since she had rushed out of Dyson's apartment, too shaken from the kidnapping to care if it made her look like a clingy girlfriend. The coat had made her feel safe during what she would make sure was Dyson's very short absence.

"A bit bulky," Trick muttered more to the coat than to himself, "But it'll do." He moved cleared books and mystical looking knickknacks from a low table before unfolding a large map of the city in front of them. It was up to date, clean lamination and all. So naturally the thing was woefully out of place among so much dust and antiquity.

"What, no ye olde map painted on parchment? Tut tut Trickster- what would the Council of Obnoxiously Traditional Elders say?"

"Well unless you'd prefer to find Dyson based on townships and landmarks that no longer exist…" He tossed her one of those 'looks' to which she mimed locking up her mouth and throwing away the key. Momentary satisfied he wrapped the coat into a ball in one hand and with the other fished out a roughly cut piece of crystal on a chain. Kenzi held her breath, expecting a flash or objects to begin to float (ya know, real magic) and then let it out. 'Real magic' apparently was just Trick holding the crystal by its chain over the map and breathing rather steadily. About a minute passed and nothing happened. She opened her mouth to ask if Trick was sure the crystal wasn't out of juice or something but before she could get the words out the crystal lurched from Trick's grasp and landed on its tip so hard it was making a dent in the lamination.

"Not exactly the Criss Angel Mind-Freak extravaganza I was expecting but still…" Trick yanked the crystal from the table and finished the sentence for her."Still, it got us a location." Kenzi pulled out her phone and tapped the cross streets into her GPS. It would take a little less than a half an hour to get there.

"And now that you know where to go," Trick moved around the table and headed toward the back of the room. "You'll need to be able to protect yourself once you get there."

Now Kenzi had assumed that after finding a Fae bar in the city and then Narnia (complete with a magic-wielding dwarf) under that bar her quota of architecture related surprises would be full.

She was wrong. She had forgotten to factor in the possibility (now reality) of a giant hidden vault behind a bookcase, filled to the brim with deadly medieval weapons. Maybe she was just watching the wrong movies.

"Holy shit balls Trick!" There were swords and daggers of every variety, axes, maces, and at least three different bows accompanied by arrows that had no right to look that lethal. "Well if you're going to do this, you're not going in there unprepared."

"Um, I think we passed prepared when we passed- Jesus why do you have a guillotine in here?" Trick merely waved his hand and said over his shoulder, "Valentine's Day gone wrong; a long story for another time." There was a moment when all she could do was stare at the gleaming weaponry, hearts in her eyes and the weirdest lady-boner in her pants, but then a thought occurred to her.

"Hey, look Trick, I get the whole suit up before battle thing, and while I appreciate what I'm assuming is a very expensive weapons upgrade, but we don't exactly have time for a Mr. Myagi training montage. Dyson-" The man held up a hand to stop her.

"I know. Which is why I will be giving you only one weapon." He went to a tiny keypad in the corner then promptly yanked the entire mechanism out of the wall, revealing a flat stone covered in runes. Of course. He placed a hand on the stone and whispered something in an unknown- and probably inhuman- language. A panel in the opposing wall slid open to reveal a double edged sword. Her eyes told her it was plain-looking, no jewels or gold inlay, nothing to indicate it was anything remarkable. Nothing, except the sheer power it radiated. She could feel it in her bones, commanding her to kneel before it. She did, as did Trick. The longer she looked, the harder it was to maintain eye contact and soon she found herself lowering her head out of…fear? No…respect.

"It's okay Kenzi, " Trick's voice was low but reassuring, "You can look." She shook her head. No. She couldn't look at it. She wasn't worthy, It wasn't right.

Trick stood and removed the blade gingerly from it's mantle. "Turn to face me."

She did, but still refused to stand or raise her eyes from the floor.

"MacKenzi Malikov," How did he know her full name? "I, Fitzpatrick McCorrigan, Blood King of the Sidhe, and last known descendant of Arthur Pendragon, High King of Avalon, hereby bestow upon you the blade Excalibur. May it aid you in your quest and see you safely home." He placed the sword in hands she had not realized had been stretching out to receive it. Her fingers curled reverently around the handle. The metal was smooth and warmer than expected. She found she could look at it fully now, and while the energy it emitted had not diminished, it seemed to have changed its attitude. Now it welcomed her, beckoned her to wield it.

"Rise, and may the strength and wisdom of the Pendragon line go with you." Her legs brought her to feet. Excalibur wasn't hers. It didn't belong to her; she know it and the sword knew it, and yet it understood what it was being called to do…and who it was being called to protect. Her reflection stared back at her in the polished metal- metal that lived and breathed and spoke for itself. It was saying she could do this.

A hand on her arm brought her back to earth. Trick was smiling. The proud, satisfied smile of a man who knew he had made the right choice.

Kenzi let out the breath she had been holding. "Trick…I...I don't know what to say."

"You can thank me later. For now, just go get Dyson."

Putting the sword in the trunk of her car was not easy. Holding it made her feel comforted, strong- not like the weak little street brat she was. Holding that sword made her feel like a warrior. But holding that sword also made her look like a crazy person- at least from an outsiders perspective. So in the trunk it went, at least for the time being.

The map on her phone told her it was a pretty straight shot to the edge of downtown.

She wondered if she would have to fight the blonde bitch. Trick had called her a Valkyrie- which Kenzi assumed meant something along the lines of 'Fae who kicks ass and takes names while still looking completely bangable'. It was all very Quentin Tarantino. She was pulling into traffic, trying to remember if the blonde from Inglorious Bastards survived until the end when a phone started ringing.

A phone that definitely wasn't hers (who has Hungry Like The Wolf as their ringtone?) was ringing under her seat. She bent, scrambled and found the source of the noise. It was Dyson's- it must have dropped out of his leather jacket when he was driving. The caller ID read 'HALE'. Hale…Hale…where had she heard that name…the partner!

"Yebat!" She cursed and made a snap decision. "Hello?"

"Uh…hello? Is Dyson there?"

"Detective Hale? Listen, you don't know who I am- I mean you might remember me from the precinct, but I had brown hair and- anyway, the point is, Dyson isn't here. He's been taken…" She hesitated, the words still sounding preposterous "By Dark Fae." There was silence for a beat before he responded in a menacing tone.

"Look, I don't know who this is but you have no idea who- or what- you are messing with." She actually sighed in relief. Dyson's partner was in the know so he had to be Fae too (which she had assumed from the beginning sure, but you never know).

"Actually, I do know what I'm dealing with. At least some of it. Long story short, Dyson is being held captive on Dark Fae territory and I- the very, very breakable human- the only one going to save his furry ass which even as I'm saying it sounds completely ludicrous but I feel like it made sense ten minutes ago."

More silence, which, in her half-panicked state she took as a sign to continue.

"Okay, listen, I'm almost to the place he's being held. Once I get there, I'll text you the address. I don't know what the fairy equivalent of the cavalry is, but I would really appreciate finding out."

"Wait, slow down. Who are you?" He asked just as her GPS announced 'You have reached your destination'.

"Shit. Gotta go. I'm here." She hung up, cutting off the frantic "Where is here? And who took-" The 'here' that she had reached was a small, rundown building that may once have been a bar- no, make that a strip joint. The front entrance was boarded up, but from the street she could see a set of stairs leading to a storm cellar. She had a flash of some nameless knight walking into a cave, sword raised, only to be burnt to a crisp by dragon fire seconds later.

Once the text containing the address was sent she shut off her phone. She tried not to expect much in the way of backup. It was better if he didn't. If you do it on your own, you don't give other people the chance to let you down...

She kicked the thought away, hard.

No. Self-pity was not something she would allow, especially now. She had a magical sword, kickass shoes and herself. That was enough. And if this fight was her last she would face it full on, stomach-wrenching fear be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I love me some comments. :)


	12. The Pen is Mightier (But the Sword Still Kicks Ass)

The man was gone. He had been gone for some time now, fading into mist in what was no doubt meant to be an impressive manner.

"What, I don't even get a name?" Dyson called before he had vanished completely.

"I believe your people know me as…Odin." And then he was gone leaving behind the chilling reality that they were up against a god. He thought about what that god had said about Kenzi. No doubt planning a daring rescue. Would she? Almost definitely. And as much as that terrified him, there was a part of his heart that swelled knowing it. Daring rescues, going up against a god, fighting to save him when he couldn't save himself? It was all very Kenzi. It would be stupid and rash and because it was her it might actually work. She was clever beyond belief, and had strength she didn't even know about. A wolf chose a mate he deemed his equal. She was his equal alright, but she was also so much more. If anyone could figure something out, it would be her.

Gods he loved her.

Something about being chained up and told you would be killed soon knocked loose any reservations he still had about that. He thought wistfully of the things he had wanted to show her, the places he wanted to take her. All the strange and wonderful parts of his world that would have made any other human run away in terror. He imagined her taking them in stride, probably with a snarky comment just because she could. He was deep in that world of 'one day's when he heard her- not his imagination, but in the flesh. Her voice was being carried through what must have been a hallway on the other side of the door. She was muttering to herself but he could hear it clear as if she were right next to him.

"Obvious access…unlocked door…this should not be so easy." Relief eased his aching muscles."Okay, if I was a crazy ass she-bitch, where would I lock up a werewolf?"

"You might wanna try in here." He called, not giving a rats ass if Odin heard. If he was even listening.

"Dyson?!" The door to the cellar room burst open and the sight that greeted him was one he would never forget. Kenzi, eyes blazing, wielding a sword and ready to attack. Even in those ridiculous heels of hers, she looked like a force to be reckoned with.

"Kenzi." Her eyes stopped scanning the room and rested on him. She smiled and let out a small sigh of relief.

"Hey there Princess. Looks to me like you could use some rescuing."

"Only if it's not too much trouble." She walked forward and took stock of the chains that held him.

"Alright Excalibur. Let's see what you've got." She changed her stance, ready to swing the sword like an axe. Dyson ducked his head. There was a swoosh and a clang but--

"What the--?" The sword hadn't even touched the chains but instead had met another blade. The second was, no surprise, being held by Odin.

"Damn. I knew it couldn't be that easy." The god stood opposite her, completely relaxed and holding his own enormous sword with one hand. Excalibur (which was another question, how the hell had Kenzi gotten hold of Excalibur?) seemed tiny by comparison. A flick of his wrist had Kenzi stumbling back, Odin seemed mildly puzzled.

"Hm. Interesting." He remarked, not sounding interested in the slightest. "That really should have disarmed you completely." "Yeah well, I've got a killer grip." She shot back as she righted herself. Odin clucked his tongue.

"Such raw passion. Fascinating." Instead of replying she lunged again, but he blocked it without blinking. "It has been…centuries since I have engaged in combat myself. But as you, Mackenzie, held such a special place in my daughter's heart I shall take great pleasure in watching you die slowly and by my hand."

"Christ, do you even hear yourself? Seriously, Dyson who is this guy?" She asked without taking her eyes off of Odin.

"He claims to be Odin, King of the Norse gods. Seems like just another blowhard to me, though." Kenzi smiled while Odin shot him a furious glare.

"You will suffer for that remark mongrel. But first, I shall kill the human who helped poison my Isabeau's heart." The fight began in earnest then. Dyson- who had risen to his feet when there were no longer swords clashing above his head- pulled at his chains, but it was still no use. He probably would have put in more of an effort but he was a bit distracted watching Kenzi fight.

If you could even call it fighting. It was more like dancing. She twirled and slashed with an ease that only came with years of training. He had heard rumors that the magic of Excalibur could turn even the most unskilled into fierce warriors, but he always assumed that was more myth than anything. There were also rumors it had a mind of its own and had once killed a man who had been stupid enough to try and steal it from the Pendragon family. Obvious nonsense. Nonsense or not, as Kenzi continued to fight it became clear to Odin that she was not the helpless mortal he had assumed she would be.

"You cannot win." He hissed through gritted teeth. "I am a god." As if to prove it, he raised his other hand and summoned gusts of wind that whipped around the room.

"God of what, lame special effects?" She feigned left, then slashed at his chest. He stepped back, but not quickly enough. The tip of the sword grazed his chest, just enough to rip his shirt open and tear a thin red line into his skin. The wound knit itself closed in seconds, but he was so shocked that she had even managed to make contact the wind stilled. He was staring at his chest, then back at her, the tiniest hint of fear in his eyes. But why? He could heal, why would he be…

No. It wasn't his life he feared for. It was the world he had created.

"Kenzi! The pendant!" It was out in the open now, a blood red gem hanging on a gold chain.

"He said he used a spell to create an alternate timeline. Magic that powerful needs a strong physical anchor to hold it together. You need to smash the pendant!"

"Just how sure of that are you?" She cried, deflecting blow after blow. Odin was mad now; he had stopped holding back.

"Completely!" He was too. He remembered Trick explaining that particular method of magic for a case he was working on. A half-crazed imp had been stealing diamonds in an ill-fated attempt to bring his cats back to life.

"Alright, smash the magic rock, the world goes back to normal. Basic Buffy logic."

"You'll never get the chance!" Odin snarled, fingers clutching the massive jewel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. "This would be a great moment to quote Justin Bieber, but I have a feeling the irony would be lost on you…"

"This would be a great moment to quote Justin Bieber, but I have a feeling the irony would be lost on you…"

* * *

Now at this point it would only be prudent to mention that Hale (who had left the station the moment he had received Kenzi's text) had been in the building, listening to the fight for a good while now. 

In fact, he had been fully prepared to bust in to save his partner from whatever hellish situation he had gotten swept into. But the thing was that Hale, as a general rule, liked to get a feel for the situation before he busted into anything. It was a tactic that had saved his hide more times than he could count and he wasn't about to deviate now. This was what he had gathered so far:

1) Dyson was there, but for some reason (cold iron chains if his ears weren't deceiving him) could not fight. 

2)Kenzi (who up to this point he had been calling 'the Blue Eyed Minx' in his head) was having a sword fight with a god, and 

3) She was holding her own.

Which, all things considered, was pretty damn impressive. He figured is was at least partly the god's doing (dear Lord did he sound arrogant. It was like Christmas dinner with his great Uncle all over again), but he still had to giver her major points. 

Now, Hale wasn't really clear on who exactly she was or what she was about, but between the rescue attempt she had initiated, the fighting to save a world he hadn't even known needed saving, and the speed of her pop culture references, he was genuinely hoping she would win. 

Hale had always considered himself the brains/charm to Dyson's brawn, he figured the best way for him to help was to get Dyson unchained so he could help the girl out. 

He leaned ever so slightly to peek through the open doorway. The fight was slightly obscured from this angle, but he could see Dyson and more importantly had a clear shot at the manacles that held him. 

He threw up a few dozen prayers to various ancestors and a few spirits he had heard of who might take pity on him and started to sing. 

He could tell it was working by Dyson's brief smirk. It meant that his friend had felt the chains vibrating and figured out that a certain siren had finally shown up to help get him out of yet another jam. 

Just a few more seconds of a note that could not technically be heard on this plane of existence and--yes!

 

The manacles fell to the floor with a satisfying clank. 

* * *

Odin was fighting with some serious fury at this point, and legendary sword or not Kenzi knew it was only a matter of time before she would slip up. Her body wasn't used to this, wasn't built for this kind of movement or endurance. It was taking its toll, and adrenaline could only keep her going for so long. She needed to get that pendant soon or...

She didn't have time to think about an or. Because in the space of a heartbeat, everything changed. 

A crash to her right made her pause, and in the corner of her eye she could just see Dyson's chains falling to the ground. Odin noticed it too and was in the process of turning right as Dyson started lunging. 

Kenzi made the mistake of blinking, and by the time she opened her eyes the two were on the other side of the room. 

Dyson's hand was clamped tight around Odin's throat. 

And Odin's sword was buried hilt-deep in Dyson's chest.

* * *

The pain was blinding and for a moment it was all his body could register. 

A moment was all he let his body have. A moment to let his nerves scream, a moment to accept that it would, in all liklihood, kill him.

That moment ended when he looked into Odin's eyes and saw what they held. Triumph. The sheer and unadulterated glee of a man who had  _won._

No. That would not happen. They had been through too much-  _Kenzi_ had been through too much, fought too hard to lose. They were going to win this. If he was going to die, he would make sure he died for her.

His gaze dropped to the blood red pendant between them. 

"Basic Buffy logic." He smiled. He liked the way she had put it. Much more succinct than Trick had.

Summoning the last of his strength he gave his body one final command before he would let it expire. He grabbed the gem, yanked hard as he could and smashed the wretched thing against the stone wall right next to the god's head. 

It shattered. The world went white. And he passed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued!


	13. Fated (For What?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me FOREVER. I meant to post on Halloween but then life happened. Enjoy!

_Thrones…pillars…_

**Is it all…**

Really necessary?

The Fates gaze around at the grand marble hall they sat in, placed on a plane of existence that very few knew about, and even less had access to.

_Well, where else..._

**Could the wolf...**

Be summoned?

The Three have access to many times and many places, to be sure, but they did not enjoy the mortal realms any more than Zeus enjoys monogamy. It is only on very rare occasions (or for very old acquaintances) did they bother leaving this space.

_He is coming…_

**soon, he will…**

be here.

 _ **OH!**_  They had nearly forgotten to remove the sword.

_Should we..._

**Heal him…**

as well?

They nod, and see to it at that when the werewolf finally appears before them- understandably confused, and more than a little frightened- the sword in his chest is removed, and the wound tended to.

"What…wha…where am I?" He gasps, eyes darting about.

"Dyson Thornwood." They say together. He eyes the thrones, the finery they wear, and the objects in their hands. They continue to spin, measure, and cut. It is a constant pattern that has not been broken since the beginning. Their beginning at least.

" ** _You know who we are?_** " He nods, then responds.

"The Fates." Another unified nod.

"Where am I? Why have you brought me here?"

They feel insulted for in ingratitude, but let it pass. They disregard his first question as well.

_Places are so important to them…_

**Of course, we could explain…**

But it would waste time.

" _You are here to remember._ "

" **And learn.** "

"And know."

The two wait as the youngest of their trio closes her eyes and watch as memories crash over the werewolf like waves. It hurts him, the clash of two lives fighting for dominance in his head, but the pain will pass. He clutches his head. Fights back a scream. They wait.

"But how…did that all really…?" He will not finish the sentence, so they begin to explain.

" **Yes. You,** "

" _And many others,_ "

"Have lived two lives." He nods, brow furrowed.

"I remember now. Odin he, he wanted to be with Bo. He stabbed me…he nearly killed me!" A trembling hand touches the place the wound had been.

" _Your life has been measured._ "

" **It cannot be changed.** "

"Regardless of the Allfather's interference."

A lesson the Valkyrie had to learn the hard way. No doubt the Allfather had been furious when his mercenary's attempt to kill Kenzi had been unsuccessful. Those involved assumed there had been protection magic involved and while no specific spell had been used they were not entirely wrong. Every thread they handled represented a life that would end. Some were cut painfully short, others stretched out centuries. (A little-known fact about being immortal: the number of creatures who believe they are immortal is drastically larger than the amount of beings in the universe who actually are. But as the existence of the Endless cannot be measured, they are not the Fates' concern.)

The wolf seems to be putting together something in his mind.

"So when the Valkyrie attacked Kenzi…"

" _Nature kept the balance._ "

" **Protecting a Life,** "

"Not yet fated to end."

He takes in a breath, another question about the girl on his lips. She holds up one hand to stop him.

" _No more questions. We have a mission for you._ "

" **The balance is restored, but the Allfather must be stopped.** "

"You now carry the knowledge the Champion needs to do this."

"The Champion?"

" _We do not interfere directly as Odin does._ "

" **We choose others to act for us.** "

"A champion has been chosen, and you shall aid her."

"Why me?"  _A fair question with a simple answer._   **Simple, and yet infinitely complex.**  Best to let him find out on his own.

" _We cannot say."_  A half-truth. Good enough for the circumstances. " _The time for questions has ended. Now you must listen._ " The wolf makes an expression of discontent but does not speak. Good. They have little time left.

" **You will not be permitted to share all that you know. But both the knowledge, and you, shall be crucial in the Allfather's defeat."**

"Trust your instincts and trust the Champion. The past cannot be trusted, but it must not be forgotten."

_"When you wake, it will be as if none of this ever occurred. But the Allfather will remember. And he will seek revenge."_

" **You cannot kill him. Do not try. But he can be defeated nonetheless."**

"We have given you all we can. Farewell Dyson Thornwood. We will not meet again."

Their message is now delivered. Slowly they push the Light Fae back to the realm and time where he belongs. He calls out several questions as he fades-

"Wait, who is the Champion? How are we supposed to stop Odin?"- but they cannot answer. Only so much can be revealed in order for the balance to be kept. Even the higher powers have their limitations.

 _Clotho_ , ever the romantic, releases a sigh into their collected unconscious.

She is anxious for the story to unfold. Atropos begins to collect words to chastise her with- including 'unwise', 'invested' and 'mortals'- but  **Lachesis**  dispels them before they can be directed. This matter well be resolved without any further action on their part. The paths have already been set, the wool already spun and measured.

And if the Spinner gains pleasure in watching the proceedings? Well, there is no real harm in it.

* * *

The next morning, when Dyson woke up in his own bed, the memories of two parallel lives and a meeting with beings from Greek mythology in his head, he was sorely tempted to discard the whole thing as a dream. Just for the next few minutes...but no. The Fates had told him to trust his instincts. His instincts were crystal clear on the matter.

His phone informed him it was October 17th, (which both made sense and seemed utterly impossible, a sensation he expected he would feel many times in the next few days at least) meaning unless he was called in, he didn't have work today. Small favors...

He wasn't quite sure how to proceed. Who should he call first? Whoever the Champion was obviously, but who was the Champion? In this timeline, he would assume Bo. She was champion material, he knew that like he knew his own name. But Kenzi had gone up against Odin before, even if she didn't remember it. She was just as capable. Maybe even more so.

Trust his instincts…but what were telling instinct telling him? He had gotten so far in life listening to his heart, but he wasn't sure what his heart was telling him.

He remembered what it felt like to love Bo, and what his heart felt like to be without love completely. Neither of those were what he was feeling. He still cared about her, of course, but it wasn't the same. It was a wound long healed.

He remembered their first few interactions. When Trick had told him to get close to her, he really hadn't intended to start sleeping with her, let alone fall for her. Looking back he realized how little choice he had. Bo was a force of nature- you couldn't deny her.

Then there was Kenzi. He remembered loving her as well, but it was an entirely different experience. The false timeline may not have existed for long, but in those few days he had fallen for Kenzi with a ferocity he had never even fathomed.

Bo had been an accident. He wasn't supposed to love her the way he did- felt terrible for wanting her. It was like betraying Trick's trust. But she had wormed her way under his skin; he never had a chance.

But Kenzi…Kenzi was indescribable. She had crashed into his life, blunt and brash and unafraid, the most incredible being he had ever met. Bo oozed sexuality and charisma because it was in her nature. Kenzi was sexy, but she was also deceptively strong and whip-smart, yet somehow didn't even realize how much she was capable of.

He had wanted Bo. But he had needed Kenzi. She was his mate for Romulus' sake! Or she had been…he had never heard of something like this happening. Werewolves gave their heart to one person one time. He had given his to two different women, and somewhere in the reshuffle of time and space had been given it back. Now, what?

He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Hey, it's me. I need you to meet me at the Dahl as soon as possible. And...make sure you bring Kenzi."

* * *

Kenzi was currently experiencing what was probably the weirdest fucking dream she had ever. And considering what she went through in her waking life, that was definitely saying something.

She was a medieval knight, preparing to go slay some fearsome dragon. Dyson was helping her put her armor on. His movements were slow, deliberate and the whole thing had a melancholy air to it. Like this was the last thing they would ever do together. His eyes were so  _sad,_ but that only made her angry. She would see him again! Why was he so upset? One dragon was not the end of the world. But she didn't say anything. Just let him strap on various metal plates to her body and look at her with a face that was screaming 'please don't go'.

When he was done, he put a sword into her hands and maneuvered to tip of it to point at his heart.

"What are you doing?" She asked, incredulous.

"Nothing that hasn't been done before." He replied and pulled her hands forward, sinking the blade into his chest. Crimson blood seeped into the fabric of his shirt and she opened her mouth to scream, but before the breath could be drawn...she woke up.

Rolling over in a huff, she eyed the alarm. 12:26. Hm..early for her. She rolled back under the covers, ready to doze for another couple of hours, at which point Bo walked in, fully dressed and sporting that _look._ The very serious, we have a situation to deal with look.

"Oh man- something's got your panties in a twist." She said with the usual amount of snark required for non-hangover mornings. "What gives?"

"Dyson called. Emergency meeting at the Dahl." A chill went down her spine.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be ready in a few." Bo must have felt something as well since she just nodded and walked out, no crack about how it usual took her forever to get ready (which wasn't even relevant any more since before he left Vex had given her the secrets to doing a full face of makeup in under 5 minutes). She threw back the covers and headed to the bathroom, hoping whatever Dyson's meeting was about had nothing to do with swords.


End file.
